


Halfway There

by SonicoSenpai



Series: Dark and Triggering Shit [21]
Category: DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types, Lamento -BEYOND THE VOID-, Togainu no Chi
Genre: A little bit of tenderness, Abandonment, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asphyxiation, Bathing/Washing, Blood and Injury, Branding, Catboys, Choking, Cock Cages, Cruel and Unusual, Enemas, Excessive abuse of my characters for my own emotional well-being, Extreme Rewards and Punishment, Force-Feeding, Forced Orgasm, Forced Prostitution, General gross and unpleasant and horrible treatment of the main character, Gross and disturbing sex, Halfway House, Human Furniture, Humiliation, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, I really should have started this fic on another day, Locked In, Lots of Abuse, M/M, Medical Torture, Medical Trauma, Multi, Neko-versions of DRAMAtical Murder characters, Neko-versions of Togainu No Chi characters, No Fluff, Non con non con non con, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Non-Consensual Spanking, OMFG I have always wanted to use that tag, Omorashi, Perverted Scavenger Hunt, Piercing, Public Humiliation, Public Punishment, Rape, Rape as discipline, Rape/Non-con Elements, Reform School, Sex Trafficking, Somnophilia, Sounding, Spanking, Town Square Punishments, Training, Well slightly more modern, crime and punishment, do not read if you’re squicked, gagging, induced vomiting, lots of smut, sex while incapacitated, shackles, sorry about the tags, triggering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:42:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 26
Words: 98,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21920041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonicoSenpai/pseuds/SonicoSenpai
Summary: We start this piece in a world similar to the original Lamento Beyond the Void universe, although the city of Ransen where our (so far still reliable) narrator finds himself is much more modern than his home of Karou. Konoe was chased out of his village and finds himself without money, friends, or resources on the streets of Ransen. He came to find his friend Tokino and in three weeks has still not figured out how to navigate the city. With no place to sleep and no food, he is caught stealing a loaf of bread and finds himself in a jail cell, awaiting a cruel punishment. Instead, a kind cat named Virus finds him and takes him home to a halfway house run for kittens just like Konoe.
Relationships: Arbitro (Togainu no Chi)/Konoe (Lamento), Bardo/Konoe (Lamento), Konoe (Lamento)/Seragaki Aoba, Konoe (Lamento)/Trip (DRAMAtical Murder)/Virus (DRAMAtical Murder), Konoe/Rai (Lamento), Konoe/Verg (Lamento)
Series: Dark and Triggering Shit [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1345096
Comments: 23
Kudos: 53





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just putting this warning up there now: I started this piece yesterday after our beloved little parrot passed. I write in order to sort out my own feelings--and this fic will be used for violence, anger, and angst. I do plan some eventual fluff. Please note that the first chapter is not typical of what I have for the rest. If you hate seeing characters abused for no reason, this is probably not for you. I'm really, really mean in this one, or plan to be. I haven't decided 100% if I will offer any comfort yet.
> 
> Also, I kinda ship Konoe x Virus, in a weird mean way. It needs to be written.
> 
> It gets pretty dark in later chapters, and I’m putting this out there: a lot of this (or a version of it) actually happened to me, and I find it intensely triggering. Reader beware!

It was just a matter of time before I was caught stealing—but since leaving Karou, chased from my village, and arriving in Ransen three weeks ago, I have used up every last penny I have on food. I’ve managed to steal a few things successfully but this time, I was caught.

It was _just_ a loaf of bread. I had been digging through the trash at restaurants and was chased away by owners claiming my presence discouraged customers. So I was sure I could just snatch the bread and run, but I didn’t see the police officers waiting around the corner when the baker hollered I’d stolen something.

Ransen takes thieving very seriously. I’ve heard from a few other cats living on the streets that they have been known to pull out claws or cut off fingers or even a full hand for the punishment of theft. That is _all_ I have been thinking about as I wait here alone in the cell. At least I was put in a separate cell from the other cats—the other cats in this city are much larger than me, and several are leering at me unpleasantly. I’ve been here at least a day, from my poor estimate of time. The jail has no windows or natural light, so it’s hard to tell.

Also, it’s cold in here. I was hoping that since the jail is indoors, it would be more comfortable than the chilly streets outside. But outdoors, I could sit by a restaurant or an inn next to the dishwashing or laundry area, enjoying the warmth from the vented windows, at least until I was chased away. I know being homeless isn’t safe—and I’ve tried my best to get a job washing dishes or cleaning houses— _anything_ —but once I had been living on the streets for a week and was unable to bathe during that time, no one wanted to hire me.

The floor of the jail cell is concrete and cold, but it’s about the same as it is outside. It’s weirdly loud, too—drunk cats in the cell next to mine yelling and arguing—again, I am thankful to be in this cell alone, even as I await my sentence. I have gotten to the point where things couldn’t be much worse and yet I still am not eager to have any part of my body severed.

I’m shivering when I hear the heavy metal door creak open from the corridor. I hear two sets of footsteps approaching my cell, and I nervously look up from my place on the floor to find an officer standing there with a bespectacled blonde cat wearing black and green. My stomach drops suddenly and a wave of nausea comes over me. Is this the magistrate? Are they coming to punish me so soon?

“Stand up,” the officer orders me, and I obey as quickly as I can, climbing to my feet with some difficulty. My mouth is dry and I’m hungry and thirsty and exhausted. I can’t remember the last time I had anything substantial to eat. It’s why I stole the bread in the first place.

“Turn around for me, kitten.” It’s the blonde cat speaking, and he gestures with his fingers, a casual little twirl. His eyes are a bright blue behind his glasses, and his voice is soft and gentle. It’s hard to read his facial expression, but I comply with his request. I wonder what it is he wants with me, and I can’t get the feeling out of my head that he is appraising me. I wonder if he is a witness and perhaps he needs to confirm I'm the cat who stole the bread. Then he nods at the officer. “He’ll do.”

The door to my cell is unlocked, and the office pulls me roughly forward, handing my arm to the blonde cat.

“Today’s your lucky day, kid,” the officer murmurs.

“Come now, kitten,” the blonde cat says. “You don’t need to be so anxious. I can see you trembling.”

“This man will offer you a more pleasant alternative than what you have earned yourself, little thief,” the office cuts in. My ears droop miserably. If I hadn't had to leave my home I would never have stolen anything! I'm really not a thief.

“I run a halfway house for wayward kittens as yourself, and we have space for you. My name is Virus. What’s yours?”

“Konoe,” I say softly, and my voice is hoarse and dry. My stomach growls loudly and rudely, and I feel my ears heating up in embarrassment.

“Are you new to the city?” Virus touches my chin, making me look up at him. He still seems to be appraising me. “From the country, I’d guess?”

I nod my head.

“I was chased from my home in Karou. I had nowhere else to go. I have been looking for a friend but I haven’t been able to find him.”

“I see. Well, you have a home now—with us. Come with me and you will be fed. You can clean yourself up, get some much-needed rest in a nice warm bed, and I’ll help you find work. Perfect timing, since it looks like we’re in for an early winter.”

“I don’t have any money,” I say softly, afraid to disappoint him. It does sound like a good offer, though.

“That’s all right. We will provide you with some job-training in a field that fits your skills, and you can pay us back once we’ve found work for you. That is what we do.” He brushes my ears gently, and the touch is weird but strangely tender and heart-warming.

“Thank you,” I whisper, feeling my eyes burn with tears. He’s a kind cat, I think. I’m relieved; a weight has been lifted from my chest. Also, this means I won’t have to get any claws pulled, I hope.

“I’ll fill out the appropriate paperwork on the way out,” Virus says to the guard, and he takes my arm firmly in support, leading me down the corridor and out to the lobby. I see an empty bench just outside the door. “Wait here, Konoe, for me to sign your release. Just rest for now.”

I curl up on the bench, flooded with relief. If I have a place to stay, perhaps I will be able to find my friend Tokino. I had no idea Ransen was such a huge city, and it doesn’t help that I have no sense of direction. I have been lost more times in the past three weeks than I have in my entire life.

The paperwork only takes a couple of minutes, but I don’t miss it when the blonde cat hands over a small bag of what sounds like coins at the counter. Is he paying a fine? Possibly my fine for breaking the law? I feel horrible about that!

“I-I’m sorry,” I stammer when he returns to help me to my feet. “D-did you just pay my fine? I am _really_ not a thief—I was just so hungry and the bread smelled so good—and I haven’t eaten well since leaving home—”

“Don’t worry about it. You can pay me back once we find a job for you. Of course, I’m happy to add it to your tab. You should have no problem finding work as soon as you’re all cleaned up and fed. That makes all the difference in the world. Just relax. Let’s head to your new home.”

I follow him uncertainly—and he holds my arm kindly, making sure I don’t stumble. Walking through the streets, several cats watch me—I’m sure I look a mess since I haven’t been grooming nor have I bathed since I’ve arrived. But Virus has no qualms about touching my arm and shoulders—and it’s been a long time since I’ve had anyone act friendly toward me. I was shocked at how unfriendly this city is to those who have little resources. It’s a huge relief not to be treated as though I’m something to be scraped off the bottom of a shoe.

We approach a large building on the outside of the city—it backs up into the forest, though I couldn’t tell you if it’s the forest to the south, north, east, or west of the city. It’s a gorgeous place, actually, and when we walk in the front door, I’m blown away by the grandeur and warmth in the lobby.

There’s a huge sparkling light fixture hanging from the ceiling in the open lobby—I’ve never seen anything like it. I feel the warmth surrounding me, and I instantly start to relax. I also smell something cooking—freshly baked bread and something else warm and comforting, maybe stew or soup.

“Let’s get you something to eat first. I could hear your stomach growling all the way here. Poor little kitten.” Virus rubs my ears. “Then we can get you cleaned up.”

I’m led into a dining room—it looks like a formal dining room with two large tables and seating for at least twenty. As I sit down, Virus hands me a warm damp towel to clean my hands and my face. I don’t see anyone else around—perhaps they are all working. That's encouraging. Perhaps he will find a place for me, too. I can hardly believe my luck!

“Have a seat, and drink this—slowly. You don’t want to upset your stomach. But here, you’ll never go hungry again.”

I take the mug I’m offered and it’s warm. It tastes sweet and minty at the same time, some sort of herbal tea, I'd guess. In a few minutes, Virus returns with a tray of stew and bread.

It’s delicious. I try not to eat too fast, but it’s just so good!

“Slow down, kitten. I don’t want you to get an upset stomach,” Virus says.

“Thank you,” I say, my mouth stuffed with buttered bread dipped in the stew. “This is so good.” Really, I have to struggle not to cry. I can't remember the last time I ate anything so hearty and heartfelt. It's so fortunate that Virus found me when he did. After a moment, during which Virus watches me eat, I break the silence and ask, “Why did you save me?”

“Ah, long ago, I was where you are. It’s my life’s work to help poor kittens get on their feet and make something of themselves. Ransen is not a friendly city to those without resources. Here, we will teach you how to make a living, taking good, tender care of you along the way.”

I feel utterly grateful, taking another bite of stew. He is the first cat to be kind to me since my arrival—not that my neighbors in Karou were friendly. Perhaps I am a little stand-offish, but I was not ever deliberately rude. I’m just mostly shy, and the property I inherited from my mother was envied by a lot of the cats in the village. I finish my meal and drink a second mug of that warm, sweet beverage. After getting a little food in my belly, I’m no longer shivering and I feel much better, though I’m tired.

“Now, you look exhausted, but first let’s see what we can do to clean you up. We have spare clothes but I’ve never had any kittens your size. How old are you, sweetie?”

“I think I’m eighteen cycles this year. My mother passed away when I was only five and I don’t the year that was. I’ve been on my own since then. I don’t know my birthday, unfortunately.”

“Ah, poor thing,” Virus rubs my ears again—they must be filthy, I think. Going for two weeks without any grooming is pretty gross, but Virus doesn't seem to mind.

He leads me up the staircase to a large bathing chamber—an _indoor_ bathing room, I notice. I didn’t have anything like this in Karou, nor have I ever seen anything so grand. And hot water comes out of the faucet, and several showers line one side of the room. There’s a huge bath in the center of the room—like a small pool—sunk into the floor. Its water is clean and it smells nice. I can’t believe my eyes. Full-length mirrors line one wall, and I hardly recognize myself. I really am a mess. My usually ash blonde hair looks brown and dull, my white and brown-tipped fur is gray and filthy. I’m excited to be able to use such a wonderful place to clean up. Virus hands me a small tub filled with bathing supplies.

“You’ll find everything you need here. Use this soap and cloth for your body and shampoo your fur and hair till the water runs clear. Comb through this conditioner after the shampoo and let it sit. Then, use the brush to scrub the dirt from underneath your claws. As soon as your claws are sparkling and clean, rinse off and you may soak in the pool. Go ahead. Leave your clothes in this basket and I'll see what can be saved.”

Virus switches on the shower for me, and I start to remove my clothes. They are torn and dirty, and my boots are worn and soaked through with rain and puddles of grime on the street. I’m a mess. I feel slightly self-conscious with Virus standing right there, but he’s a genuine, nice cat, I’m sure. So I don’t waste any time, fluffing up my fur once I’m naked and standing under the hot water.

It feels unbelievably good.

“I’ll be back with some fresh clothes if I can find something that will fit you.”

“Thank you,” I say again. I wash my hair and fur several times, and I’m shocked at the amount of dirt that comes off my body. Once the water runs clear, I condition everything, too. I scrub my whole body with a washcloth and soap and then use the brush on my claws. After that, I rinse off the conditioner, and it feels so good to be fresh and clean again. Then, I head over to the pool and climb down the steps.

The water smells nice—it has some sort of minty fragrance added to it—and it feels amazing on my skin. I allow my body to float for a while—the water comes up to my shoulders at the deepest point of the pool. And then I start to feel exhausted and weird—my body tingling with a strange dizzying pleasure. Perhaps the heat is getting to me. My eyes are heavy, too.

I have to head over to the side of the pool to sit on the bench while I soak. I'm nervous I may fall asleep in the water.

In the meantime, Virus has returned with a towel and a pile of clothes.

“How do you feel?”

“I’m exhausted, but I feel so much better.”

“Your fur is such a pretty color. I thought you were a gray cat. But you’re blonde and your fur is actually white. I think you will do very well here.”

I blush a little—though my skin is already hot from the water.

“Ready to get out?”

I nod and climb up out of the pool. I keep my eyes down because it’s weird to have someone else watching me. I’ve grown up alone—and no one except my friend Tokino would stop by my place once a month or so. I’ve never really spent much time with other cats. So of course, it feels weird.

Virus is kind, though—he hands me a towel, deliberately touching my fingers as I take it, and offers to help me with my hair. Once I’m wrapped up in the towel, he leads me over to a stool and has me sit down. It’s still nice and warm in here, steamy and pleasant, and it feels good when he runs a comb through my hair and fur.

“Look at that,” he murmurs when running a comb through my tail. “You have a lucky tail.”

I feel slight discomfort when he runs his claws through the fur at the tip of my hooked tail. It's always been crooked, and other cats made fun of me for it. Obviously, a straight tail would be better, but I can’t do anything about it. I’ve never heard it called a lucky tail before.

“At this house, we try to minimize strife and prevent any in-fighting between residents, so I need to file your claws,” Virus says. “May I have your hand?”

Tentatively, I give Virus my hand, and he pushes on my palm to extend my claws. As I defended my territory in Karou, I’ve never filed my claws before, and I’m slightly nervous it might hurt. But it doesn’t. Virus is very gentle just the same as he files each claw to a blunt tip. I offer him my other hand as well.

“Good boy. So, I wasn’t able to find anything that would fit you. For now, I have some new clothes for you to sleep in, but they will be big on you. I assume you’re sleepy and want to rest.”

He offers me an oversized tee-shirt and a pair of boxers, and both are large and loose on me. But I pull the underwear on while I keep my towel on, and I see Virus smirk.

“A little shy?”

“Oh, I just haven’t spent much time around other cats,” I explain. “I was fairly isolated in Karou.”

“It’s not a bad thing. It’s endearing and cute. Come along,” he says after I slip the shirt over my head. It comes down to mid-thigh, and I’m feeling pretty nice and relaxed.

I pad after him down the hall in bare feet, following him to a room at the end of the hall. It’s warm inside—though I don’t see a fire, thankfully—and it’s nearly the size of my entire home in Karou. I’m stunned I don't seem to be sharing it with anyone else. The large bed is the focus of the room, but there is also other furniture: a desk and a chair, a small sitting area including a comfy-looking chair and a small couch, a closet, and a small dresser. The bed is maybe twice as wide as my bed at home and obviously designed for a larger cat that me.

“Make yourself at home. I’ll see if I can salvage the clothes you were wearing, but I have a feeling even after a thorough cleaning we’ll just have to get you some new things. Why don’t you take the rest of the afternoon to rest? You can’t have been sleeping well on the streets, and kittens your age need plenty of sleep. I’ll wake you at the dinner bell. Oh, before you may socialize with the others, I will have a doctor examine you, for your physical health. I can't have you infecting anyone else here, of course.”

Wow. A doctor, I think. They really are thorough here. And now it makes sense as to why I didn’t see any other cats. Of course, they’d want me to be healthy—the gods only know what I could have picked up from the streets. I head over to the bed and climb in. Virus follows me—weirdly, again—but all he does is tuck the blankets around my body, combing his finger through my fur once more. The sheets are clean and smooth, and the bed is so nice and warm. All I want to do is relax and go to sleep. I curl up on my side and feel the urge to groom myself. It’s been so long—there comes a point, apparently, when you just get too dirty to want to groom your fur. But being clean and warm and comfortable makes all the difference in the world. I restrain my urge, at least while Virus is still in the room. I don't quite feel comfortable grooming myself in front of another cat.

“If you need anything, just ring the bell on the side of the table. I'll check on you when it's time for dinner but I won't wake you till the doctor is here. We can get to work on your employment plans tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” I say softly. “I-i really don’t know what else to say, but I really mean it.”

Virus smiles a friendly smile.

“Of course you do. It’s my pleasure. I’m sure you’ll fit in well here.”

He tilts his head slightly and then leaves, closing the door behind him. My ears twitch when I hear a soft click—it sounds a little like he locked me in the room, but that isn't possible. He’s _kind_. I’m sure he wouldn’t do that. Plus, even if he did, where would I go?

And at this point, I’m so sleepy I just want to groom. So I do—starting with my hands and ears. I fall asleep by the time I get to my tail. It’s so nice and warm, I don’t even notice when I drop off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Konoe meets the house doctor. 
> 
> Medical trauma, non-con groping.

A few hours later, after the moon of light has set and the moon of shadow is rising in the sky, a soft knock at the door wakes me. I haven’t slept this well for as long as I can remember. Virus enters the room while I am still slightly disoriented and drowsy, trying to figure out exactly where I am.

“Did you sleep well, kitten?” Virus doesn’t wait for an answer before continuing. “This is Dr. Arbitro, the house doctor. He stays with us from time to time and sees to the care of all our young guests.”

“Nice to meet you, Konoe,” the other cat says. His voice is slightly sing-song and strange. He doesn’t look like a doctor—he’s weird, actually—disconcertingly weird. He has long blonde hair and short blond fur on his tail and ears, but he’s wearing a mask over his eyes. He is dressed in a rather flamboyant outfit—a white suit and a pink boa around his shoulders. But he does have a small leather bag with him. I know doctors carry bags like those.

“I’ll return after your exam. You will want privacy, I’m sure.”

“Privacy?” I ask. Honestly, I can’t remember ever seeing a doctor in person before, though of course, I know of them. I wonder why I'd need privacy.

“Enjoy yourself,” Virus mutters to the doctor, leaving the room and closing the door.

Dr. Arbitro puts his case on the small short table by the sofa.

“Now. To start, I will need to give you a full exam. Please strip out of your clothes, kitten.”

I look up suddenly, but the doctor is looking for some items in his bag. I recognize the stethoscope he pulls out and drapes around his neck—I’ve heard of this tool. Doctors use these to listen to the hearts and lungs of their patients, I know, so he must be a real doctor.

That knowledge doesn’t make undressing any less uncomfortable for me, however. But I comply—stripping off my shirt and then stopping nervously.

“Are you a shy little kitten? Don’t worry. I don’t bite. Go on.”

Dr. Arbitro is watching me now, waiting for me to strip out of the boxers. They hang low on my hips, so I'm not sure why I am so hesitant to take off everything. But I ask anyway.

"Um, i-is it really necessary for me to undress, um, completely?" I don't mean to be disrespectful, but I'm not feeling so great about this. 

"Kitten, if you want to be exposed to the other kittens here and start your job training, yes. I need to examine every inch of you to ensure your health and fitness."

That seems like a reasonable explanation, though it doesn't feel any better. But I pull off my underwear and sit on the bed with my tail puffed out in front of my body. The doctor walks over to the bed, and I try my best not to flinch.

“You are quite a pretty little thing, aren’t you? Such a small breed as yourself will be quite popular here in the city. Where are you from, sweetheart?”

“Um, Karou,” I reply, flinching when I feel the cold stethoscope pressed against my back.

“Mmm. Take a few deep breaths for me, honey.”

I do as he requests while he moves the cold metal over my back. He has his hand spread out so I can feel his fingers touch my bare skin, and to my surprise, he lowers his other hand to my bare thigh. It’s so casual, though, I’m ashamed to make a big deal of it.

“Now your front. A few more deep breaths.”

I do as requested, uncomfortable with him touching me. The stethoscope is still cold, especially in contrast to his warm hand. I squeeze my legs together on the bed and try to breathe as he asks. The other hand is still resting on my thigh.

“Your heart. Be very quiet now.” His eyes peer down at me through the mask on his face as he listens to my heart. “Poor thing. Your heart is racing! Are you nervous?”

He gently brushes his hand through my hair in what I assume he means to be a soothing manner. To me, it just feels weird and intrusive.

“No need to be nervous.”

After looping the stethoscope around his neck, he examines my head and face, pressing against my sinuses and feeling along my jaw. He runs his hands down each arm, finally moving the one resting on my leg. I feel relief when he moves it, but even the way he's touching my shoulder and arm makes me uncomfortable. Next, he palpates my back and runs his fingers along my spine and out to the tip of my tail. It feels weird—sending a shiver through my back into my shoulders.

“Ah, a lucky tail. How lovely. And you’re surprisingly plush for a short-haired breed. Your fur is just gorgeous.”

It’s a weird thing for a doctor to say. It makes me feel like he is appraising me or trying to determine my value from my looks. Again, relief fills my body when he walks back to the small table. He pulls another tool out of his bag and switches it on. I'm surprised to see it's a small light.

"I just need to check your eyes, ears, and mouth. Look straight ahead, please."

He shines the small light in my right eye and then my left, moving it slowly. It blinds me, leaving white streaks in its wake in my vision. I can see it even if I close my eyes.

"Such pretty gold eyes and lovely dark lashes, too."

Is that something a doctor should notice, I wonder?

Next, he tilts my chin back and looks in my nostrils, and then peeks in my ears, pulling them up by the tip.

"Nice and clean now. Feels much better, I'm sure. Now, open your mouth and say 'ahh.'"

I comply and he looks in my mouth, pressing my tongue down with a flat stick. I feel like I might gag at first, and then I do actually choke when he pushes the small stick inside my mouth a little too far.

"Huh. Quite an active gag reflex. Well, that's nothing that can't be fixed."

Then he suddenly pushes me back to the bed, dropping the stick and light on the bed next to me.

“I just need to check your abdomen. Do you have any pain?”

“N-no,” I say nervously. My fur bristles and my claws draw at the surprising movement. His hands push against my chest and stomach—and weirdly, he brushes his claws over my nipples, sending another odd shiver through my body. He moves lower and lower on my stomach, below my navel, and I feel him brush his fingers through my silky fur.

“Kitten, have you had your first heat?”

“Heat?” I ask.

“Have you been through your first mating season? Hmm?”

I have no idea what he’s talking about. I mean, obviously there is a mating season. Otherwise, females wouldn’t be able to have kittens. But that’s just for females, isn’t it?

“Um, no, I don’t think so.”

He meets my eyes curiously for a moment, looking like he might want to say something, but he doesn’t. He purses his lips slightly and walks back to the bag on the table and puts the stethoscope away. He returns with a comb.

“You look quite healthy. But after living on the street for three weeks, I need to check you for fleas and ticks. Sit up, sweetheart. Just be patient with me here.”

He starts combing through the fur on my ears—meticulously—with that comb and the claws of his other hand. I wonder nervously if he will have to do the fur on my tail, too. I don’t want that. He even looks inside my ears and runs that comb through the soft white downy fur there. The comb sounds weird, moving my fur around and scraping my skin.

After my ears, he works through my hair the same way. I know cats can get lice, but I’ve never really been itchy. But I don’t struggle. I just stay patient and as calm as I can be, though my tail is flicking behind me nervously, even as I try to keep it on my lap to cover my private parts.

“Your hair is lovely, too. I think we should let it grow a little longer. It would suit you. Hmm. Yes.”

Then, he sits down on the bed next to me and grabs my tail. My fur bristles in surprise, and he touches my leg gently. It’s horrible to have him touching my leg and holding my tail at the same time. Restraining the movement of my tail, while it isn't painful, is uncomfortable and stifling. It feels like I can't express my emotions with my tail restrained. I dislike it and I can’t seem to protect myself from him or cover myself up.

“Oh, don’t worry. I will be very gentle,” he murmurs softly. Again, it isn't reassuring.

Combing through my fur take quite a long time, and while I try to relax, I can’t seem to keep still. I’m terribly uncomfortable. And worse, once he’s finished with the fur on my tail, he pushes me up to stand by pushing on my buttocks. I do stand—and quickly—just so I can get him to stop touching me.

“Turn around, honey.” He turns my body around to face him, hands on my hips.

He stays seated and to my utter horror, he starts combing through the fur below my navel and the soft blonde hair around my privates.

“Oh, such a precious response from you. So innocent! And your ears blush so prettily,” he hums softly as he continues his task. "You'll have no trouble finding work here, kitten."

I sort of feel like he is putting more effort into this part of my body than my ears or hair, but he finally he puts the comb aside and says, “Now for the fun part. Let’s check your development and response.”

Again, I’m ashamed and blush furiously when he cups my balls in his hand. He feels me up in a weird way—one that does _not_ feel medical. This feels _utterly_ intrusive, and I hate it! I want to struggle to get away, but I settle for sitting in my discomfort, hoping that not resisting will get it over with sooner.

“You are quite a sensitive little thing,” he says. Of _course_ I am if he’s handling my privates this way! He also fondles my dick, stroking the shaft around and feeling up the head—almost as if to get my body to respond. Of course, any male my age would respond, even in the most uncomfortable and awkward situations, if they were being handled like this. I can’t bring myself to look at him for shame.

“I’m sure it’s not as though you don’t do this yourself,” he says. I glance at him in surprised horror, and he is smirking at me, still stroking me. "Don't you?"

“Um, I’m sure it’s normal. I'm fine and normal and healthy. Isn’t this enough?”

At my words, his hand whips out and smacks my ass. It jolts my body toward him and makes me flinch—and while it doesn’t hurt very much, it takes me by complete surprise and is _utterly_ humiliating.

“You certainly need to learn some manners and obedience if you’re going to fit in here. Virus has done a _lot_ to get you a place here,” Arbitro says—still holding my dick in his hand. “The least you could do is show your appreciation by dropping this ornery behavior. I'm not hurting you, am I?”

Lowering my ears and tail in shame, I shake my head and can’t look at him again. I really just asked if it might be enough. I don’t want him to touch me anymore, but I didn’t _say_ that. I simply asked a question! I submit unwillingly to the rest of the exam, and he leaves me aroused and hard, dripping transparent droplets from my newfound erection.

“If you relax a little, this next part of the exam will be pleasant.”

He stands up suddenly and pushes me down against the bed, holding me there firmly by my lower back. It takes me by surprise, and the bed is just a little tall for me, so I have to stand on my tiptoes to touch the floor. I struggle reflexively and receive another firmer and louder slap on my ass.

“Hold still. I have to make sure you’re healthy. Stop struggling and spread your legs a little.”

I _don’t_ obey—I know what he is about to do. But my tail is grabbed and pulled up sharply, and I am smacked again. This time, it feels like he hit me hard enough to leave a handprint on my ass—and it feels like he traces the spot where he spanked me, right where my thighs meet my butt. Tears burn in the back of my eyes.

Though I want to squirm away and struggle, I know that will only make things worse. I am not ungrateful to Virus, and I don't want to disappoint him, so I really try my best.

“Just relax, kitten. This will feel quite pleasant if you are relaxed and submissive. Let yourself enjoy it.”

Fear shoots through my body and appears like goosebumps on my skin, but I try my best not to move, even when the base of my tail is grabbed by the hand pressing me against the bed.

“ _Please_!” I beg softly.

“I told you, _relax_. It will feel nice if you relax. If you continue to struggle, it will be painful. I must finish the exam.” A few fingers ghost over my entrance in a _very_ non-exam-like way, making me shiver with revulsion. I gasp softly. “Just _relax_.”

As though to encourage me to relax, he pushes my thighs apart, pressing them against the bed, deliberately making as much skin contact as possible. My feet no longer touch the floor and I try not to cry. I feel his fingers creeping up my thighs and touching me right below my tail. I try to push myself up on the bed with my arms, struggling to get away, and I’m spanked again—hard enough to make a small yelp escape my mouth.

“I’m not going to do anything to you! Just relax and let me finish my work. If I have to call for assistance, you will not like it. And you will disappoint Virus.”

A small sob falls from my lips and tears spill down my cheeks.

“Such drama,” Arbitro says with some amount of disdain. His fingers press against my outside rim and one pushes inside quite suddenly. I feel a sharp burst of pain. I struggle not to move, but a pained gasp slips out just the same. “Kitten, _relax_! For goodness sake. It’s _just_ an exam.”

But it isn’t as though he takes his finger out right away. In fact, the warmth of his hand radiates around my ass and below my tail, as he starts to press around inside me. It’s _incredibly_ uncomfortable.

“You are very new, aren’t you? Very tight. It’s healthy.”

And then another finger is shoved into me, making me squirm against the bed and sob loudly.

“ _Please_!” My mouth is pressed against the blankets of the bed, but I can’t struggle against him.

He pulls out his fingers for a moment, spread my thighs apart again forcefully, then smacks me—right below my tail. I can feel my ass pucker, and shame floods my body. I force myself to stop moving and press my cheek against the blankets.

“You are making such a fuss. I told you to relax.”

Those fingers are shoved back into me again, and it hurts just as much as before. His fingers spread my insides open and drag around my inner walls—and it’s incredibly uncomfortable. There's a spot he touches inside me that makes me feel nauseous. For the life of me, I don’t understand what kind of exam this could possibly be!

Finally, it’s finished, and I crawl up onto the bed, curling into a tight ball with my legs underneath me. I lower my tail and wrap it around my thighs, feeling utterly violated. I try hard to stop my tears, but my lungs are still hitching with breathy sobs.

“Come now. I wasn’t trying to hurt you. If it was uncomfortable, that was because _you_ refused to relax.” My ass is stroked in an overly friendly way, and then both his hands trace my waist and hips. “Hmm. You have quite a lovely shape.”

Then he stands up and heads over to his case on the table again.

“M-may I get dressed?”

Arbitro clicks his tongue and crosses his arms.

“I suppose. And you’re lucky you have a healthy body. I _am_ sorry I will have to report your unacceptable and resistant behavior to Virus. I’m sure he will be disappointed in you. He had such high hopes for you.”

My ears flatten again, and I am devastated.

“I-i’m s-so sorry. I d-didn’t know what to expect—”

“What sort of experience do you have? Sexually, I mean?”

“What?”

I sit up, grabbing my shirt and holding it to my chest. I’m too shocked by the question to answer or continue getting dressed.

“Are you a virgin? Have you shared your body, say, in exchange for food or money? How many times?”

“No!” I burst out, completely insulted. “I said I led a very isolated life in Karou—”

“Yes, yes, in _Karou._ But you’re not in Karou anymore, honey. So, since you’ve been here—”

“No!” In fact, what he did was the _only_ thing I’d qualify as a sexual experience. And it was horrible!

But he doesn’t seem pleased with my answer. I struggle to quickly slip my shirt over my head.

“You haven’t pleasured anyone with your mouth, either?”

“Of course not!” What does he take me for?!

“All right. Relax. I’m just asking.” He strokes his chin and I quickly put on my underwear. "Anything else can be learned, I suppose. Your gag reflex is slightly worrying, but I'm sure it can be dealt with."

I don't understand his words, but they frighten me. Who is this guy, anyway? I still feel gross, as though his fingers are still touching me intrusively, and my ass is slightly warm. Gods! He spanked me! What the hell was that?!

Dr. Arbitro packs up his equipment in his bag and looks at me, still on the bed.

"I'm sure I will have the pleasure of seeing you again and assisting with your... job training. Again, I am sorry to have to tell Virus of your behavior."

He waits for a moment, as though expecting me to say something. A few uncomfortable minutes pass in silence and I finally open my mouth.

"I am very sorry," I say softly.

"Of course you are. Now, I wonder if there is something you might be able to do to make up for your behavior. Then I might not have to report it."

My ears flatten. What is he talking about? Surely, he can't mean...

"No," I say firmly. "I can only apologize."

"I see. That's too bad. You'd best get a little more rest, then. You will need it."

With that, the doctor picks up his bag and heads to the door. Again, I hear a soft click when the door closes behind him. I'm sure that isn't the door itself. It sounds like a lock. What is going on?

Filled with a mix of relief and nervous energy, I lie down on the bed and cover myself up with a blanket. I also groom my tail and ears to get some of that cat's scent off of me. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Konoe is punished (publicly) for his misbehavior during the exam.
> 
> This is a triggering, abusive chapter.

It’s less than half an hour before I hear the lock on the door—and I’m sure I’ve been locked in this room when I hear it click. The door opens, and Virus is standing there. He looks the same as ever, which is a relief. I was afraid he’d be angry with me. But when he speaks, I worry I am not able to read this cat’s intentions.

“Konoe-kun, it’s time for dinner. I’d like you to join us.”

He subtly crosses his arms in front of his chest. I think I might be in trouble.

“Um, I’m n-not really hungry,” I say, refusing to meet those cool blue eyes behind the glasses. “Is it okay if I j-just stay here?”

“Konoe.”

I still don’t meet his gaze, and I don’t reply, either. My body feels weird—kind of like I need to bathe.

“I asked you to join us.”

I still don’t respond, staying in bed and under the covers.

“You know, we really only have _one_ rule at Halfway. If you want to do well here, you should follow it. The sooner you learn, the more successful you’ll be.”

His voice is frightening neutral and calm, and it makes my skin shiver. My chin is grabbed suddenly—and he has moved silently across the floor, and I didn’t see him coming. He doesn’t hurt me, but I am certainly startled, bristling my fur in surprise.

“Kitten. Do you know what that rule is?”

I lower my gaze without answering. Virus clicks his tongue in annoyance.

“Now you’re just being rude. After all the efforts I made to get you out of jail… Perhaps you don’t know what the punishment is for theft?”

I meet his eyes now and I shake my head.

“They were planning to pull the claw from your left pinky.”

The words alone make me feel sick, and it makes my left pinky throb uncomfortably.

“Um… Th-thank you f-for saving me—”

“The very least you could do to show your appreciation is to show some manners. I know you say you grew up isolated, but not responding when someone asks you a question? It’s just rude.”

“I’m sorry,” I say—and I mean it.

“Our single rule here is _obedience_. In my mind, delayed obedience is the same as disobedience. I told you the doctor would examine you, which was necessary to determine whether you are healthy enough to work. It was for your own _good_. And you resisted the exam.”

Tears burn the backs of my eyes and I shut them quickly, trying desperately to suppress the sob hitching in my chest.

“I-i—”

“I’m not _interested_ in excuses. I just want your assurance that you will do better to comply with the rules. In a houseful of kittens, you’d be setting a terrible precedent if you felt you were exempt from the rules everyone else follows.” His voice remains utterly calm, as though he is simply telling me like it is.

I can no longer suppress my emotions. My tail thumps on the bed behind me and a soft meow escapes my lips.

“I’m sorry!” I burst out. “I-i w-was _afraid_ —I didn’t know what to expect! His touch f-felt so intrusive and strange and I didn’t know what to do! It felt _wrong_!”

“Your job—even after we find actual, _paying_ work for you—is to submit to what is expected of you and obey, despite your reservations.”

“I’m sorry!”

“If you’re really sorry, why are you refusing to join us for dinner? I don’t believe you really wish to be here. If you like, I can return you to the jail, let the officials pull your claw. Do you know what it feels like to have a claw pulled, kitten?”

I am shaking with fear now.

“Please… I will obey! I will do _better_!”

“It hurts for _weeks_ afterward. Some cats never regain the use of their fingers. And they were going _easy_ on you. You’re right-handed, aren’t you? But after your punishment, where would you go? Back out to the streets where you’d end up stealing again? Is that what you want?”

“N-no—I’m _sorry_!”

“The next time you’re caught stealing, they will pull at least _two_ of your claws. The pain aside, not having claws with which to defend yourself from the riffraff on the streets is a bad idea.”

My hand hurts from his description alone. I’m terrified!

“I’m s-so sorry. Please!”

“Then make it up to me by showing me _contrition_. You will join us for dinner and obey the house rules. I won’t force you to eat if you aren’t hungry, but you will obey me and join us at the table.”

“Y-yes. Of c-course. I’m sorry.”

“Come along.”

As I scurry out of bed and walk out the door, I don’t miss the lock on the door handle. It does in fact lock from the outside. In fact, there is a deadbolt on the door in addition to the one on the handle. I want to ask about it—if there is a reason I might be locked in my room, but it doesn’t seem like a good time.

Virus stops at the bathroom before we head downstairs.

“Wash up and take care of any business.”

“Yes, sir,” I say softly. I take care of business—relieved to be able to use an actual toilet after all this time—and I wash my hands and face with the sweet, minty soap. I feel a little better, if slightly nervous.

When I come out, we head downstairs to the dining room. To my surprise, there is a soft buzz of conversation when I enter—and everyone goes silent as soon as we enter. The tables are set up in a U-shape with no one seated at the bottom of the U. Virus leads me into the center of the tables, standing there with me so everyone at the table is able to get a good look at me.

“Sorry for the delay. Thank you for waiting,” Virus says. “This is our newest arrival, Konoe. He has just been cleared medically.”

The faces around the table are an interesting mix. I see several young kittens—well, cats close to my age—interspersed with several adults, including Dr. Arbitro. He nods politely—as though he did _nothing_ inappropriate to me not even a half an hour ago. Maybe it was fine? It just felt strange. I’ve never been seen by a doctor before, so maybe I just didn't know what to expect. In any case, it had to be better than getting a claw pulled, so I don’t make a fuss now.

Virus is watching me expectantly. I get the feeling he wants me to apologize to the doctor for my behavior, and so I approach his spot at the table.

“Dr. Arbitro, I am very sorry for my behavior earlier. I’ve never seen a doctor before and I was, um, I was just surprised and confused.” I pause for a moment, wondering if I should explain myself further. I look up at Virus and he seems pleased, so I don’t say anything further.

“It’s only natural, kitten. I’m glad you’ve joined us.” He touches my hand reassuringly. “The fact that you’re apologizing now is a good sign that you will fit in well. Eventually.”

Strangely, I don’t see an empty space for me at the table. I’m a little taken aback and I look at Virus, wondering where I should sit.

“Konoe is still in the process of learning how we run things here at Halfway.”

I notice that when Virus starts speaking, the younger cats in the room shift uncomfortably in their seats and put down their silverware. None of them are looking at me.

“This is his first night here with us, and I think we should show him how we handle disobedience and insubordination here. Konoe, are you aware of your offense?”

“Offense?” I ask, noticing that the younger cats’ discomfort seems to spread to me in an instant.

“Yes. You broke our only rule here. Do you wish to stay with us? Or shall I return you to jail?”

“I am very sorry. I do wish to stay here. I appreciate all you’ve done for me and I want to try my best to—”

Virus puts his finger on my lips.

“Stop talking.”

I obey immediately, and a feeling like ice water dripping at the back of my neck makes me shiver. His tone is so cold.

“If you wish to remain here—and see that your life may actually have a purpose—it goes without saying that you should suffer the consequence of your disobedience.”

I nod slowly, nervously. My body is filled with anxiety.

“I heard you resisted the doctor several times. First when you refused to disrobe for the exam.”

My skin shivers a little, but I resist the urge to defend myself.

“Second, you resisted the external exam. Third, you actively struggled during the internal exam.”

My mouth drops open and I stare at Virus. Of course, I did! It was terribly intrusive! And isn’t it natural to be a little shy about exposing myself to someone I don’t know?! Especially those private parts?

“The medical exam was provided for your health and safety. We need to make sure you aren’t suffering from anything contagious. It was provided for _your_ benefit.”

I look down, refusing to meet his gaze.

“Do you understand this is provided for your health?”

I nod without looking up.

“When I ask you a question, I’d like a verbal answer.”

“Yes, sir,” I mumble.

“Speak up.”

“Yes, sir,” I repeat slightly louder.

“At Halfway, we believe that the consequences of disobedience should fit the crime. If your issue is a ridiculous shyness about your body, in the first instance of disobedience, the only rational solution is to train you out of such behavior. This will ensure that you do not disobey the next time.”

My chin jerks up suddenly. I am terrified I think I actually understand what he is talking about. I think he is about to ask me to strip off my clothes.

“Ah. You understand. I’m surprised. You seem a little slow on the uptake. Kitten, if you want to stay here, _live_ here, receive all the benefits we will provide, I want you to assure me that you will obey your betters without hesitation. So let’s see for ourselves. Strip off your clothes.”

Despite my earlier recognition of what is about to happen, my stomach sinks in my body like a stone.

“Please, I—”

“If you refuse,” Virus interrupts, “I won’t have any choice but to return you to jail.”

I look down again, unsure of what I should do. I mean, I _know_ what I have to do, but I am seriously reconsidering my options. It has to be better than getting a claw pulled, though, right? I keep telling myself it must be.

“What are you waiting for? I can return you to jail right now if you prefer—”

“No!” I insist. “I will comply. I’m sorry.”

“You remember what I told you about delayed obedience?”

“Yes, sir.” I cast my eyes down to the floor and strip off my shirt overhead. I try hard to dissociate from what I’m actually doing, take a shaky breath, and pull the boxers down as well. I fold up my clothes and Virus takes them. I _hate_ the feeling of all twenty pairs of eyes on me and feel my ears burning in shame.

“Good boy. Now for your second infraction. Trip, can I have your assistance?”

I discovered I’m a small breed of cat upon my arrival in this city. I haven’t seen another cat even close to my height. But when this cat, Trip, pushes back from his chair and walks around the table to where I am trembling, I can’t help be intimidated. He’s tall and broad—with blonde hair and red fur. I quiver in fear.

“Why don’t you repeat the exam and we will see if the kitten will submit this time around?”

“Sure.” His voice is gravelly and strange, and I feel sick to my stomach.

“Please—I’m s-so sorry,” I stammer. “Isn’t there, um, s-something else I m-might do—”

“You can go back to jail to have your claw pulled. Is that your preference?”

“N-no—”

“Then shut up and submit,” Virus says. “Go ahead,” he nods at Trip.

To my utter horror, while I am standing in front of everyone at the table, Trip grabs my privates roughly. He handles me much more roughly than the doctor did—and it feels even more intrusive than that exam. Trip pulls at my balls and squeezes my cock, and I struggle to keep still. Plus, he’s doing it in front of everyone here!

“Submit,” Virus says firmly. “Just obey, kitten. If you don’t want to go back to jail, that is.”

Tears spill down my cheeks—and I am filled with shame when my body starts to respond. The touch is violent, though—rough and uncomfortable—but even so, blood starts to pool around my hips.

“Go on and finish the exam,” Virus commands Trip.

I am roughly turned around and pushed up against the table—right where there are no place settings—and I have to catch myself with my hands.

“Bend over,” Trip whispers in my ear. “Keep your stomach and torso on the table and for gods’ sake, _relax_.”

A repulsive feeling slides into my ear along with his voice—and I don’t want to obey. But I also don’t want to be returned to that cell, either. My ass is sticking out behind me and my tail is grabbed and pulled up toward the ceiling.

“Please—don’t—” I can’t suppress my sobs now, and the room is totally silent.

“I can still return you to jail if you prefer,” Virus says. “If you’d prefer to stay with us, I suggest you relax and stay completely still.”

Pain bursts through my lower body and makes me cry out when I feel two large fingers pushing inside me. Trip’s hands are larger than the doctor’s, and I try my best not to struggle. But Trip ends up pushing me down and against the table with the fingers inside my body, while he keeps my thighs spread.

“Relax.” The voice purrs into my ear. I’m utterly disgusted—and in pain—when he shoves his fingers up inside me and scissors them apart. I think I can feel them pressing against the surface of the table from inside my stomach, and I’m sure I’m about to throw up. I want to vomit. I want him to stop touching me!

This is so much worse than the initial exam. It’s public and meant to shame me, meant to put me in my place, and I can’t stop my tears. I’m ashamed to be crying—but I can’t imagine the pain of a claw being pulled, so I don’t have a choice.

Even if I struggle to relax, the pain doesn’t lessen—and this torture seems to last forever. I bite my tongue to keep from begging or crying out. But he is just so rough with me I don’t know what else to do.

Part of this doesn’t even feel real—and I hear a soft sound in the room, clothes rustling uncomfortably in seats. I keep my face pointed at the table, bracing my body with my arms.

“That should do. That was much better, kitten.” Finally, Virus is satisfied.

Trip pulls his fingers from my body, and I can feel my feet touching the floor again. Gods! Was he just fucking me with his fingers hard enough to lift my whole body off the ground?! I’m terrified. “You are excused for the evening. Trip, why don’t you return our new addition to his room?”

To my horror, the large cat scoops me up in his arms while I am still completely naked and carries me out of the room.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Konoe discovers that the "consequences" he suffered in the dining room aren't the last from his disobedience. Virus and Trip begin his "training."
> 
> This is a triggering chapter. Confinement, abandonment, humiliation, fear, and angst.

To my surprise, Trip doesn’t return me to my room. Instead, he carries me up the stairs to another room and opens the door.

“Kitten, we tried to do this the nice way. If you were compliant and obedient, you could live as Aoba does. This is his room. Look.”

I do look—it’s a nice room, covered with plush rugs, a dressing table with jewelry and perfumes and lotions on it, a large closet that is partway open, displaying lots of pretty clothes. There’s even a strange contraption on the dresser that I’ve seen in pictures. I think it’s a gramophone. It’s supposed to play music, I think.

“If you were obedient and did as Virus asked—if you _obeyed_ —you could live like this, too. But even during dinner, during your punishment, you didn’t behave yourself. So we can’t allow you back to your own room tonight.”

“What?” I whisper. I’m still naked—and I’m very nervous with Trip’s hands wandering over my body as he carries me along. We head back down the stairs and past the dining room and through a cellar door.

The cellar is dark and damp, and my skin breaks out in a cold sweat the moment he reaches the bottom step. He switches on the lamp—an oil lamp with a softly flickering flame that really creeps me out (I hate fire), and I notice that this room has nothing like a bed in here. I see what looks like shackles bolted to the ceiling and walls, and the room is not fit for living. I've slept in cleaner places in back alleys. The windows at the very top of the walls are barred, and I can’t reach them. Little natural light will come into this space, I’m sure.

Worst of all, it smells like fear.

I’m dropped to the floor of the cell—I’ll call it a cell once my eyes adjust and I notice a row of metal bars separating it from the hallway. What the hell is this place? In the back of my mind, I wonder if I wouldn’t be better off getting a claw pulled after all.

“This is your future, kitten. You will be a success eventually, but you’ll just go about it the _hard_ way,” Trip says. He grabs my ankles and attaches them to shackles that are connected by a short chain to a thick bolt on the floor. The floor is cold and dirty, but I hardly have time to worry about the filth in the room, since my wrists are grabbed and cuffed and attached to the same bolt my ankles are attached to. The chains are so short I have to fold my legs and hunch over to reach or I risk dislocating my shoulders. I'm left like this, scrunched up helpless on the floor.

“Now. The question is, do I blindfold you now or later? I think you’re the type who likes to be in control, so I think a blindfold is in order.”

“Wait— _no_ —!” I protest, but I can’t resist or escape when I am shackled like this. A soft blindfold is tied around my head, covering my eyes. It makes the smell of this place—fear, pain, loneliness—stand out even more. “Please—I’m _sorry_!”

Trip grabs my chin suddenly—startling me since I can’t see him coming. My ears flatten against my skull and I protest with a quiet meow.

“You need to get some rest. You won’t be having a fun night, kitten. We have plans for you. When our guests fail to behave themselves, we _make_ them do as they are bid by employing a variety of special techniques. I can’t wait to see how you respond.”

His words send terror flooding to every corner of my body. But what can I do? I can’t defend myself and I can’t even see.

I realize I am going to be left here—and who knows how long that will be. I couldn’t see if there was anyone or anything else in the room with me, but then I feel something crawl over my bare foot—a bug or a spider—and I jerk around uncomfortably, letting out a shriek. Even the small movement makes the heavy shackles dig into the skin of my wrists and ankles.

“Oh, yeah. You’ll be making friends with the locals soon enough. Sweet dreams, kitten. Perhaps you can imagine how nice that bed upstairs felt beneath your skin as you crouch on the floor tonight.”

I hear his footsteps retreating, then the clanking of the metal cage door, and then his footsteps head back upstairs.

I’m left alone in the dark, uncomfortable and afraid, and soon, I’m sure, will be in agony from having to sit cramped up like this all night.

It doesn’t take long before I tire of this uncomfortable squatting position. I’m really in need of sleep—I’m hungry, too—but mostly, I’m exhausted. I _have_ to sleep. A kitten my age should get about twelve hours to stay healthy, and I've been lucky to get half of that, broken, on the streets. After pulling at the cuffs around my ankles and wrists several times, I realize I can tip my body over onto my side on the cold floor, curled up in a fetal position around the bolt. Perhaps I can sleep like this—but even on the streets, nowhere was ever this uncomfortable. But at this point, I don’t know what else to do.

I manage to sleep a little bit—probably ten minutes at a time—and then wake each time another small creature crawls over my skin. I know I’ve felt mice and spiders on me—and the floor is unbearably cold. My body is shivering—and the smell is horrible. I’m not getting used to it. It’s awful.

I’ve never felt as much relief as when the morning moon of light shines through the windows. I can see a little light through the bottom of the blindfold, and I try to move closer to the slivers of warmth streaming through the bars onto the floor, but I can’t quite reach it. Also, I've been chained up like this overnight and terror and fear fills me as I feel the sun move slowly across the floor, my shoulders cramped and uncomfortable, my legs needing to stretch.

Still—no one comes for me.

Worse still, I have to pee. I’m naked and I could just go where I am—Virus fed me well yesterday when he first brought me home. The thought that I might have to wait here—so long as to wet myself—is humiliating.

So, I start to call out for help. I figure if I can see a little of the light coming through, we must be on a street. Maybe someone will hear me and they will have to let me out of here. But the glass is thick and no one comes. And I feel like my bladder is about to burst. My voice is shaking when I call for help—and soon, I tire of it and give up.

What if they have chained me up here to die? Have they forgotten about me? I scream some more—hoping for a response— _any_ response—and receive nothing.

Finally, when the light is nearly at noon—at least from where I can see anyway—I can no longer hold back and I just pee where I am. It gets everywhere—all over my fur, my thighs, my legs. And though my bladder is relieved, I’m humiliated and ashamed like I can never remember feeling before. I don’t remember anything about potty training as a child—but this feeling is close to unbearable.

Sitting in my own waste—no, lying in it—my tears overflow and I start to sob. At first, I’m quiet. I’m so ashamed of myself—what if someone came down now and found me like this? I’m not sure I’d want that. But soon, I can’t help this desperate sensation—of being locked away in a basement by a group of crazy people, soiling myself till I die—and I start screaming again, begging to be let out.

When my voice tires, the light from the windows at the ceiling is no longer coming in, and the cell gets even colder. I smell terrible, my fur is matted and sticky, and I feel disgusting and exhausted. I watch the light at the ceiling fade to dusk and then darkness—and no one comes for me. I have to relieve myself again after night falls, and it’s just as hard as it was the first time and equally as humiliating.

The minutes and hours pass even more slowly during the day than at night—and the temperature cools once the light disappears and it drops almost imperceptibly. My body shivers from cold and exhaustion. How long are they planning on keeping me here?

It’s been dark for some time—I can’t tell the hours—but no light comes in at all through my blindfold. I have grown quiet again when I hear the cellar door click.

Before I even hear a single footstep on the staircase, I start to plead, letting words flow from my mouth like water. My throat is sore and I’m thirsty, but I don’t let it stop me. I’m not sure if I’m making any sense—but I hear myself begging for forgiveness and a second chance and promising that I won’t disappoint them—just _please_! Get me out of here!

I recognize Virus’s voice immediately. He walks down the stairs slowly and murmurs something about my punishment.

“Calm yourself, kitten. You’ve done very well. You’ve paid for your crime and we have decided to give you another chance. But look at you.”

He pulls the blindfold from my eyes so I am forced to see him examine the state of my body. I’m naked, soaked with urine, shaking and trembling, and my fur is a disaster.

“You poor kitten. Perhaps that was too harsh for your first lesson. However, I’m sure you now understand that there are both consequences and punishments for _any_ disobedience. You will behave for me now, won’t you?”

“I promise—yes— _please_ —yes—just…”

“Hush now,” Virus whispers, petting my matted ears gently. “Let’s unlock you and get you cleaned up. You look exhausted.”

My shoulders pop painfully as soon as Virus releases my wrists from the bolt on the floor. My body is trembling too much to stand, even after my ankles are released. I have red marks around my wrists and ankles, and I smell terrible—but I’m so relieved to see Virus and have him help me, I just relax and try to stop shaking.

“You’re cold, too, aren’t you, sweetie? You should be careful to mind our instructions from now on. I don't think your slender little body can take much more of this. We will get you all cleaned up.”

He’s ignoring the fact that I peed myself—twice—and I don’t say anything that might bring even more embarrassing attention to it. My eyes are blurred with tears of relief, and my chest is aching with the desire to please this crazy cat. He sweeps me off the floor and carries me out of the cellar and then to the bathing chamber on the second floor.

To my dismay, Trip is waiting there. My fur bristles fearfully, but I’m terrified of being chained up in the basement for another 24 hours, so I try to calm myself. Panic is rising in my chest, however, so I struggle to take slow breaths. It helps to be so exhausted, frankly, since I can't do much to disobey at this point.

I’m placed on the floor of the shower and rinsed off—and then both larger cats soap me up, shampoo my hair and my fur, and scrub the filth from my body. I _hate_ the feeling of their large hands on my skin, but I’m so disgusting and so exhausted I can’t clean myself. So I don’t protest. I’m discouraged, but the hot water feels nice. And it feels amazing to be able to stretch out again. My stomach rumbles a little—I haven’t eaten since yesterday and I’m still young. I need nourishment. But I don’t ask for anything or speak at all. I just comply when my arm is moved and when I am finally moved into the hot water spa to soak, filled with comfort and relief.

“You must be hungry, kitten,” Virus says. “I’ll see if Trip can get something brought up to your room. You just relax.”

I do relax—my body is still sore and exhausted, but at least I’m clean and I’m no longer shivering. I float in the water for a while and then Virus gestures for me to get out. He helps dry my hair and my body—and I don’t resist, even when he feels up my ass and tail. It still feels disgusting. I wonder if they are trying to get me used to this sort of touch—and then I stop the thought right there. I need to think of what I need to survive right _now_ , not what is to come.

“Already you’re feeling much more obedient, aren’t you? Perhaps we won’t have to do this the hard way. Didn’t you see what you could earn for your compliance? You saw Aoba’s room, didn’t you?”

I nod, but I don’t say anything.

“Now, perhaps Trip didn’t tell you, but that’s not your _only_ path. If you can’t get along well here with us, we have no qualms about renting our students out for periods of time. But we have little control over what sorts of things will be required of you or how you will be treated. I've heard from several students that Halfway is the better alternative. It’s all in your hands, kitten.”

I shudder and nod my head again, this time attempting to speak.

“I will do _anything_ —I’m sorry—I j-just d-didn’t know what to expect—”

“It’s understandable. Don’t discuss it any longer. Here are a robe and some slippers for you.”

It’s a soft fluffy bathrobe, but I can’t help noticing that I’m not given any clothes to wear underneath it. Once Virus helps bundle me into the robe, he takes my arm (and I do not pull away), leading me out of the bathroom toward the room I was in earlier.

It looks positively luxurious after spending more than a day and a night in that basement. The bed—my gods—I have never so much wanted to lie down and curl up under the blankets than I do right now. And even better, there’s a dish of soup and some bread, juice, and water waiting for me at the small table.

Looking at the food longingly, I gaze up at Virus. He simply raises his eyebrows, waiting for me to ask.

“May I eat?”

“Perhaps you need to get yourself in the correct mindset by changing your language a little. Address me _formally_ and _politely_ , please, like the good kitten I know you want to be.”

“May I please eat, sir?” I ask again.

“Go right ahead,” Virus replies, gesturing magnanimously with his hand.

Kneeling down at the floor in front of the coffee table, I dig into the soup and devour the entire meal.

“Slow down, kitten. You won’t ever have to worry about meals if you continue this sort of compliant behavior.” He rubs my ears gently, and it sends another shiver of revulsion through my body. I don’t cringe, but my ears twitch in discomfort. “Hmm. You are quite a shy boy, aren’t you? Perhaps I can assist you with that a little. It may be difficult to overcome, but it needs to be done if you wish to stay here.”

He leaves me in the room—and I don’t hear the door lock behind him. However, Trip comes in and sits down on the chair to watch me eat. In a few moments, Virus returns carrying a brown glass bottle and a small glass. He pours some liquid from the bottle into the glass—it has a thick, syrupy texture and it smells a little like dried fruit.

I’ve finished the meal, and I accept the glass in both hands.

“Drink it all. This should help your compliance and hopefully, your shyness.”

I nod and drink it—my first sip slightly hesitant. Already, I’m exhausted. I don’t think I have the energy to resist anything at this point. But the liquid feels cold on my tongue and it tastes sweet, making my mouth and throat a little numb as I swallow it down. I obediently drink everything offered to me.

“Now, let’s tuck you into bed.”

Virus pulls me up to stand after I set the empty glass on the table. He leads me over to the bed, and my head spins a little bit. I don’t think that stuff in the bottle was liquor—but whatever it was, it’s adding to my fatigue.

Trip pulls the robe from my body while Virus pushes me into the bed. Both cats let their hands skate over my bare skin, brushing me lightly and caressing me gently. Nothing can make that touch feel good—but it sure beats being locked in a cellar and bolted to the floor. So I don’t complain or resist. I curl up on my side and let Virus tuck the blankets around me.

“As you know, kittens need their sleep. So go ahead and rest. While you can.”

Trip leaves—giving my ass a soft pat over the blankets and Virus wiggles his fingers at me from the door, just before switching off the light.

“Sweet dreams, kitten.”

He closes the door behind him—and I hear it lock.

I’m locked in this room—just like I was locked in the cellar. But at least my belly is full and I’m clean and warm. I stretch out a few times on the bed, trying to get comfortable, and I drift off to sleep almost immediately.

However, I wake again, my body hot and sweating—feeling feverish—and oddly, _aroused_. I am still desperately exhausted, so I can’t have slept for more than an hour. I try my best to ignore my symptoms—the sweat tickling the back of my neck and goosebumps shivering across my hot skin. But the room is too cold to sleep uncovered. If I had pajamas, it would help—but I don’t. The robe isn’t even in the room anymore. I think Trip must have taken it with him. I try just a single sheet over me and manage to sleep a little more.

But once I finally drift off soundly, the lock on the door clicks and wakes me.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The training begins. Konoe meets his teacher, Verg, the devil of pleasure.
> 
> This chapter is very non-con and angsty.

Peeking out from under the blanket, I watch as the door swings open. The hinges creak, possibly because it’s been cold at night. It is, in fact, still in the dead of night. And I have a visitor.

I don’t recognize the person’s silhouette. He is bigger than either Virus or Trip—and oddly, I notice his ears look like bull horns. That can’t be right and so I try to wake up a little more. I feel very strange—perhaps from whatever syrup Virus gave me. My head feels fuzzy and my vision is swimming.

I notice right away that his tail is smooth and hairless—it looks like a snake, but it’s dim in the room until he switches on the lamp. Then, I see his short, white hair and oddly colored eyes—one grey, one green. Indeed, those are horns on his head. In an instant, fear shivers down my spine and settles in my groin—an unusual and unexpected response.

“I see he tried to prepare you for me. That’s good. You look awfully young and sweet, kitten.” The voice is soft and deep, and there’s something silky in it. “Let me introduce myself. I’m Verg, the devil of pleasure, at your service.”

Now fully awake and scared out of my wits, I sit up straight in bed, pulling the blankets along with me.

“I don’t think I requested any service,” I say, trying to scoot away from him as he approaches the bed.

“Perhaps not, but you will learn to appreciate what I can teach you in time.”

A sadistic light shines in the demon’s eyes, sparkling dangerously and setting off alarm bells in my head and in my body. He shuts the door behind him and there’s nowhere for me to run. Plus, I’m naked and only covered by the bedding. He can see my confusion and indecision and takes full advantage.

“I see you struggling with your next move, kitten. Let me just remind you: Where did you sleep last night?”

He is now standing right at the foot of the bed. His outfit is completely outrageous—a feather boa around his neck, leather trench open at the chest, and his bare skin and tattoos on display—including one at his navel that is pointing obviously downward toward his groin. His pants look like chaps made of fur. He grabs my chin with his leather-gloved hand.

“ _Where_ did you sleep last night?” The question is repeated low and soft, and I dislike his touch. But I don’t see a way out of this.

“In the basement,” I whisper.

“And you were there for how long?”

“I don’t know.”

“I do. You were there for 24 hours. You’re lucky to have gotten off so easily. There are other things they can do to punish you—and they _will_ punish you if you disobey or resist me. I heard you resisted even the doctor’s kind care.”

“It wasn’t kind!” I burst out, unable to restrain my voice. Trying to swallow my fear, anger simmers beneath my skin and again I find myself wondering if perhaps being sent back to jail for having my claw pulled or even my entire hand chopped off might not be preferable to whatever is about to happen here.

“Oh, it was kind in comparison to what lies ahead of you. And I see your brain working now. You’re wondering if you shouldn’t request being sent back to jail, aren’t you?”

I jerk my chin and meet his disconcertingly colored gaze. He is leering down at me as though he can read every one of my thoughts.

“Tell me. What do you think will happen after justice is served? _After_ your claw is pulled? Where will you go?”

“I’ll find my friend—” Of course, he doesn’t have to know I haven’t located Tokino the three weeks I’ve been in Ransen.

“Oh, no. They’d _never_ put you back out on the streets. You’d be an instant re-offender. No, no. Instead, you’d be sent to a place where you can be _reformed_. A _safe_ place—like Halfway.”

My ears flatten against my skull. Is this really true? I don't need to ask, though, since Verg reads my thoughts.

“I have no reason to lie. If I am anything as a demon, I am true to my desires. I do not lie—even if my desires seem immoral to the living. You can trust that I will never lie to you.”

My ears and tail sink in discouragement, and Verg smiles.

“That’s better. I’m sure you’ll be pleased with what I have to teach you. Eventually,” he says as he sits down on the bed and grabs at my legs over the blankets. I realize right away he is aiming for my groin—and I scoot away quickly. “Aw, now. Are you sure you want to resist? It might even feel good—at least better than your next punishment will be, should you disobey.”

My next punishment? Is it already decided, I wonder?

“Instead of putting you in a cell for a day, you could be left alone for _three_ days. Or possibly in a confined space—a box so small you can’t turn around—like being buried alive. Or possibly a box small and filled with… hmm… snakes? Insects? Both?”

I _hate_ snakes and my stomach gets really upset.

“Plus, weren’t you shown the sort of life you _might_ have here with us? Aoba has done quite well for himself, after all.”

I nod my chin just a little and force myself to relax. I also lower my gaze demurely—he is no longer forcing eye contact, so this should be enough to let him know I’m submitting. Or trying to submit, anyway.

“Better. We won’t be needing _this_ tonight, however.” Verg yanks the sheets and blankets from me in a single swift movement—so strong and practiced it makes me bristle my fur and draw claws in fear. How on earth would he have so much practice in this sort of thing? I don’t want to know.

He chuckles low in his throat.

“Oh, you _will_ want to know. You will want all _kinds_ of things. You’re just… so very new at this, aren’t you?” He purrs, standing up from the bed and taking in my nude body from the tips of my ears to the tips of my toes. His gaze feels like an intrusive caress. “ _Very_ new. I don’t hate that. It makes you, shall we say, trainable?”

“Trainable?” I echo, wondering what on earth this place needs to train me for—using a devil to do it!

“Hmm. You’ve already been started on catnip, I guess? That’s a nice touch—something I didn’t have with my kind.”

What’s he talking about? Catnip? And he’s acting as though he really is a devil! That’s not just some outlandish costume?!

“You know, the catnip is what is making you able to relax at all right now, what is making the blood rush to this area of your body.” He demonstrates again—the glove stroking my hips and ghosting across my groin. It’s currently struggling with some sort of bewildered indecision—unable to decide whether it wants to come to full attention after being so suddenly exposed. “Gods, your innocent reactions are just _adorable_. You will be very popular here.”

Suddenly my ankle is grabbed and I’m pulled toward the edge of the bed. I’m pulled roughly enough so the smooth, expensive sheets underneath my body burn against my back and shoulders. My legs are dropped over the edge of the mattress and I feel vulnerable and exposed.

“ _Please_!” I shriek. “Don’t hurt me!”

“Weren’t you listening, kitty? I’m the devil of _pleasure_ , not of pain _._ _Relax_.”

His hands reach up underneath my body and turn me over, pressing me against the side of the bed. My feet are on the floor and I struggle not to try to escape—but being handled so roughly is disorienting and frightening. However, soon, I’m pressed against the mattress, bent over the side of the bed, and I feel his hand at the base of my tail. My ears heat up in embarrassment and shame, but I can’t fight him. Worse, if I fight too much—or maybe at all—I will be punished again. I don't know what to do, so hesitating is making me even more vulnerable.

Both Virus and Trip touched me like this earlier—and certainly, Arbitro did as well. I hardly know what to do with myself, and my claws draw against the sheets. Fear burns in the backs of my eyes as I fight the urge to scream and cry. I can hear the threads of the fine fabric snapping beneath my claws—and something in my mind snaps as well. At the very moment fear floods from my mind into the rest of my body, something like static electricity—only powerful enough to make my entire body lift up off the bed—flows through my body with the fear, starting from my tail and shooting through the rest of my body. I’m unable to suppress a cry.

But after the pain subsides—almost right away—luscious waves of pleasure flow out from my tail through the rest of my body, bristling my fur in a wave and making me moan. It feels really good—and it makes even more blood flow toward my hips.

“See? It’s not so bad. All we’re doing here tonight is teaching you about pleasure. You will enjoy it. Seems your body is quite responsive, though your heart isn’t in it yet.”

My heart? Fuck him! But right then, he sends another shock through my body, and the fur at the base of my tail bristles as if encouraging his touch. It feels—already—as if my body is betraying me. My mouth hasn’t given up yet, though.

“Please—don’t—”

I don’t even have time to finish my protest before a third shock courses through my system. This one reaches my head after rushing up my spine, making me jolt and purr loudly.

“Don't resist so much. Just enjoy it, kitten.”

I have to admit I’m quite worked up—even as flustered and naked as I am right now. Arousal quickly overcomes my shame—and to my dismay, I feel his fingers caress the base of my tail and slip in between my cheeks. Yes, both Arbitro and Trip have forced their fingers inside me, so while it isn’t a brand new sensation, it still feels foreign and weird and uncomfortable. As if predicting my feelings, I am shocked again, and he waits till the pleasure is coursing through my body and my legs are shaking to push two fingers into me.

“No! Please!”

“Relax, kitten. It doesn’t help you any to protest. Perhaps your clients will enjoy it, I’m sure—as long as you remain this submissive. And who am I to judge? You may serve clients who prefer their whores resisting to the last inch of their lives.”

Whores? Clients? He’s talking about serving clients? What does he mean? Is that really my purpose here?

Once his fingers are inside me, he caresses my thighs with his free hand and something liquid drips from the tip of the finger inside me. At first, it’s just a warm gush inside me—but it quickly heats up my body and makes me breathless. I can hardly keep myself from rubbing my crotch against the side of the mattress. My body is hot and sweat prickles my skin.

“It feels good, doesn’t it? In your case, I believe you will be much better off if you can gain some pleasure in your work. You’ll do a better job if you can make your customers believe you enjoy the act. So, that is what we’re trying to teach you today.”

The hand not inside me moves from my tail to my erection, and he separates my hips from the bed. I can’t suppress a moan when his fingers start to stroke me. It’s different than when I touch myself—this is much more indulgent and much more intense, but it feels intrusive and unwelcome.

Suddenly, the fingers inside my body brush against a place that sends a chill up through my back. I wheeze and struggle against my buckling knees.

“Please…” I'm not sure if I'm begging him to stop or begging for more!

“That’s better. Just let yourself enjoy it. For now, come whenever you’re ready.”

My cheeks burn with shame when he makes that suggestion. I can’t help my arousal at this point, and he suddenly starts fucking me with his hands—harder and faster—and my desire builds to an unbearable level. I am gasping and trying to restrain my body, but it’s too late.

“Relax and come,” he whispers into my ear, and he licks it.

Despite how clinical all this is feeling, I do in fact come. I purr and cry out—my mind blanches white—and pleasure floods my body, taking over all the fear and shame I was feeling just a few moments ago. Now, what I want is to sleep—I’m exhausted, and my tail drops between my legs.

“Oh, but you’re not done yet, kitten.”

I’m shocked again—twice successively—and to my utter shock and disbelief, my cock stiffens again. I can feel my nipples erect and brushing against the sheets. And he starts moving his hands inside me—and I feel that eerie, liquid sensation dripping inside me, coating my inner walls and feeling utterly disgusting.

And even though I feel so disgusting, I can’t fight my arousal. So soon after my release, I’m excited again, and he is fucking me hard with both hands, inside and outside my body. I have never touched myself more than once in an evening—and it’s not that I even do that all the time. I’m young, after all, and I know that this will help me sleep. But nothing about _this_ touch is reassuring or relaxing.

Before I realize what’s happening, I’ve come again—this time much less fulfilling than the last. I am breathless and weak, and my body is lifted up onto the bed. He still has his fingers deep inside my body, and I’m shocked again several times while I’m arranged on all fours on the bed. My torso is touching the bed, but my ass is pushed up into the air.

I feel exposed and vulnerable. And when the aftershocks of pleasure ripple through my body I protest again. I don't want to do this again!

“Please—isn’t this enough?”

Verg just chuckles.

“I don’t think so.”

After that, I lose track of how many times I come, but when Verg is finished with me, I’m a writhing mass of tears and cum. The stuff he has put inside me is dripping out my asshole in between my thighs, and I’m in tears when he shocks me again.

“Yeah, I think I’ll leave you a little desperate. You did well, kitten. I’m impressed with your stamina.”

He shocks my body again—and shoves his fingers inside me again, making me feel that disgusting wet sensation again—and then pushes me onto my back. I blink several times, trying to get a hold of myself—but saliva is dripping out the corners of my mouth.

“You look delicious. This is how we want you when you start your service with us.”

My hands are raised overhead and spread a little wider than should-width apart—and I don’t resist. I can’t resist. I’m exhausted and have no energy. I feel them attached to the headboard and I hear a metallic clinking sound. A buckle? Leather straps attached to my wrists pin me in place. I am simply trying to breathe at this point.

Verg shocks me a couple more times, and my erection is back.

“Look at that. Your pupils are dilated, your claws come out, and your fur has delightfully bristled. I’m almost sorry to leave you in this state.”

In truth, I’m thankful he’s finished with me—but I don’t want to be left with this kind of arousal. It feels like torture.

“Please…” I _barely_ stop myself from begging him to let me come again. But he knows what I'm asking for and denies me.

“I think you’ve had enough for now. I’d like you to rest in this feeling for a while. I’ll teach you about delayed gratification next time. We’re starting your next lesson now. Sweet dreams.”

Verg gets up from the bed, leaving me with a stiff erection and coated in sweat and cum, tears and saliva.

I purse my lips desperately, trying not to call him back. I am exhausted, but even after I hear the door click behind him, sleeping now is impossible. With my hands restrained, I can’t turn over on the bed—even when I kick my feet. I am hoping I might at least be able to rub myself against the mattress, but no. I’ve just been left like this—exposed, aroused, and helpless.

It feels frustrating and disgusting, and more than anything, I feel that disgust toward myself. But I’m exhausted. I didn’t sleep enough yesterday, and it’s catching up with me now. And honestly, this is more comfortable than the basement. Eventually, I cry myself to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short and dirty little update to this disturbing fic. Konoe has an awful night after Verg leaves, unable to sleep and sore and aroused. The following morning, he meets the prize pupil, Aoba, and discovers what his actual job entails.
> 
> Non-con sex, but somehow a little more tender than Verg's chapter.
> 
> I feel like I should say this fic isn't for everyone. I've been using it as my extreme-case scenario, and it's going to get much worse before it gets better. (I do have plans to make it better, though.)

I wake when the first rays from the moon of light peek in through the curtains covering my window. I look over at that window, wondering exactly how much damage I would do to myself if I leaped out. I mean, I know we’re on the second floor. But if I could get away with a single ankle break and then find Tokino, I know I’d be all right. I mean, I've never broken any bones before, but it has _got_ to be better than what is ahead of me here.

Of course, I don’t know whether I’d then get a claw pulled as well—or be sent back here—if the authorities found me. And I can’t put my friend at risk. Tokino doesn’t even know I’m in Ransen. I sigh heavily, my shoulders aching and sore from being suspended over my head and attached to the bed frame all night.

Last night wasn’t any better than the dungeon. Whatever Verg did to me—that electrical shock thing, the repeated forced release—it wasn’t enough. He left me in a terrible state, and my cock and balls are aching from being so stimulated and extremely aroused and then being left alone. He must have given me an aphrodisiac. There’s no way I could come so many times in a row otherwise. I'm very new to sex, though it isn't as if I have never touched myself. I just didn't know that this could be done to a cat's body, nor do I understand the need for it. What exactly is my role here? Was that session with Verg punishment or training? And if it was training, training for what?

My ears twitch when the door opens. The lock barely registers a sound, and I don’t hear any footsteps. Whoever is coming into my room is sneaking in. Completely self-conscious, especially because of my current state of arousal, I realize again that I am still naked and awfully vulnerable. My ears flatten against my head and I scoot my legs up under my body, hoping I won’t be quite so exposed.

To my surprise, a small cat enters and closes the door behind him. He is dressed in a red and white silk robe and he has long blue hair and matching fur. He looks young—maybe my age, I’d guess. And he’s close to my height.

“I just wanted to introduce myself and see if I could be any assistance.” His voice is soft and gentle—and terribly sexy. “I’m Aoba.”

Oh. He’s the success story here at Halfway. It was Aoba's room that Trip showed me before he brought me to the dungeon. I’m sure he wasn’t at dinner when Trip violated me so publicly. I’d remember that hair. It’s an unusual color.

“I hear you’ve been resisting your training.” He chuckles softly, but it doesn’t really sound mean. “I know the feeling—wanting to stay yourself—but here, you should really just comply, sooner rather than later. They will make you into who they want you to be. If you resist, you only bring more trouble and punishment down on yourself. It seems you spent the evening with Verg?”

I wonder how he can tell, but I don’t reply. I’m not sure what he is doing here.

“Will you release my wrists?” I ask. “Please? My shoulders—they hurt so much—”

Aoba giggles a little.

“I would love to be able to help you, but trust me. If I release you, you’ll be in even more trouble. I came to help you with your other, more pressing issue. You will always feel like this after a visit from Verg. It’s really unpleasant—being left hanging. You’re young and new here. I’m sure you didn’t sleep well.”

I shake my head.

“What’s your name?”

“Oh. It’s Konoe.”

“And you’re not from around here, are you?”

“From Karou, originally. I left for Ransen to find a friend.”

“And you managed to get yourself caught up here.” Aoba shrugs and walks over to the bed. He is looking at me—examining me—from the tips of my ears to my toes, and it’s unnerving. I want to cover myself up. I hate being so exposed, though he doesn't seem as threatening as Verg, Virus, or Trip.

“It’s, um, cold. Can you get me a blanket?”

“You don’t look cold. In fact, I see the sweat sparkling on your skin. Why not let me help you?”

Of course, I need help! But I don’t understand what he intends to do!

He climbs up on the bed, to my shock, straddling me. His skin is smooth against my legs, and I realize when he settles on top of my hips that he is naked under that robe.

“Please! Don’t!” I _am_ desperate—but more than anything, I want to be released from these restraints and left alone. What is he going to do to me?

“What you need is a real release. After I’m through with you, you’ll be able to relax and sleep. As I said, Verg always leaves you hanging like this. He gets off on it. Let me help you.”

“Wait—um—I don’t need—”

“You can protest all you like, kitten, but I can feel your arousal. Gods, you smell good, too. Let me help you. I want to. You look tasty.”

Tasty?! The fuck?! What exactly is Aoba’s job here—how is he the poster child of success when he is about to play around with my body…? And then it dawns on me. Halfway is a _brothel_. Virus and Trip are trying to turn me into a sex worker. For all I know, I was purchased from the authorities for exactly this purpose. My ears sink and I lower my eyes, defeated and depressed.

It all makes sense now—that awful exam, the public punishment, abandoning me in the basement, and what Verg did—how he kept marveling at how “new” I was. Of course, I’ll make a terrible whore. I wouldn’t _ever_ willingly submit my body to another person!

“Aw, look at that. Tears! You’re so innocent. You're sweet! Well, you’ll make a good contrast to me for the customers. We get customers who want someone who is afraid, innocent, and easy to force.”

What? I don’t understand! Customers who pay to rape the whores? What kind of place is this?!

“Th-there’s been a m-mistake,” I stammer. “I, um, I don’t b-belong here. Please! Would you release my wrists? I need to get out of here!”

“I understand the feeling, Konoe. I felt that way when I first arrived, too. But here’s the thing,” Aoba says, touching my chin and lifting up my face so I have to meet his eyes. His eyes are a sparkling hazel framed with his long blue lashes. “You’ll be much better off staying put. If you even _try_ to escape, they will make it hell for you. And even if you succeeded, where would you go? Obviously, no one is missing you. You’d be better off just submitting. Trust me.”

“I-i c-can’t. I’m n-not like that!”

“And you think I was when I first started? Let me tell you, you’re not only restrained on the bed, but they've also locked you in. Your door is locked from the outside.”

“I-i c-could try the window…”

“Even if you could slip through the iron bars outside the glass, you’d fall to the first floor and break at least one, if not both, of your ankles.” He runs his drawn claws down my sides from my underarms to my hips, sending a little shiver in the wake of the gentle caress. “And this is _much_ too curvy to fit through those bars, even as malnourished as you are.”

“But—”

He brings his finger up to my lips.

“But nothing. _Trust_ me. I’ve been here for over a year, I think. And it’s not so bad. Sure, you’ll get unpleasant clients from time to time. But then you’ll also get cats who adore you and treat you like a king. So let me show you what this is all about. It can even be fun!”

He shifts on top of my body, deliberately pushing himself against my dick. I’m still aroused and get even harder with the touch, and I have to look away. I’m so ashamed!

“Please… don’t do this.” I can’t keep the tears from falling.

“It will feel so good. And this is what you need to rid yourself of that aphrodisiac shit that Verg uses. Of course, it can be helpful when you’re not in the mood. But I think he gave you too much. I heard you last night, you know. It wasn’t _all_ bad, was it?”

My cheeks and ears flood pink and I look down. But he lifts my chin and kisses me—a much more gentle kiss than I was expecting. He kisses my lips separately, leaving me wanting more—especially with how he is pushing himself against my groin. To my disgust, I respond instantly, following his lips with my chin as though begging for another kiss.

“See? That’s nice, isn’t it?”

It is much nicer than what Verg did to me—and much nicer than how I have been treated so far. But I'm not sure I want this!

“Let me show you what I do for a living. It’s not so bad,” Aoba murmurs. He opens the sash on his robe, exposing his pale skin to me. The silky strands of fur below his navel are blue, too. I’m shocked to be looking at him so carefully, but he’s gorgeous.

Keeping the robe on his shoulders, Aoba climbs up to his knees, which are planted on either side of my hips. He gives my erection a quick tug, pulling a gasp from my mouth at the same time. I close my eyes again, and he touches my chin.

“It’s better if you watch,” he suggests—his voice silky and sexy.

He drops his hips down on me, and my entire body—not just my dick—is surrounded by warmth. I’m utterly surprised at the sudden movement as well as the arousal that courses through my body. He is soft and wet inside—smooth and silky—and he feels _so_ good. Though I have my jaw clenched, it softens when I release a soft moan.

Once he has settled on my hips, my entire body pulses with pleasure and lust. I can feel every inch of him touching me—smooth skin, long hair brushing my chest, claws and fingers caressing my chest, my nipples, my sides—and an occasional tender kiss pressed against my lips.

I’m so utterly aroused that when he moves, lifting up to his knees and dropping back down on me, I nearly come right then. He chuckles a little.

“You’re so very new and impatient! Take your time, kitten. It will feel better if you delay your release a little.”

I don’t really hear him, though, and soon, my hips are thrusting up from beneath his body and sexy sighs I try to suppress leak from the corners of my mouth. I think that this must be hurting him—I mean, he’s a small cat and where I’ve entered him isn’t meant as an entrance. At least, I don't _think_ it is. But I can’t slow down.

After being inside him for less than two minutes, I feel I’m approaching a climax and I can’t back up. He leans down and kisses me—hard—grabbing my chin with one hand and the tip of my tail in the other, running his claws through it roughly. It sends a shudder down my spine—beginning at the base of my tail and then rushing through the rest of my body.

Gasping loudly and purring, I release—unsure if it’s really okay for me to be doing any of this but being completely overwhelmed with lust and desire. Aoba is still erect—his cock is bobbing up and down right in front of me. I struggle with my restraints, trying to release my wrists so I can stroke him as well, and I’m shocked by my desire to do this. But I really do want him to experience pleasure, too.

Humming softly, he climbs down from my bed.

“You need to learn to delay your gratification for a bit longer. It makes everything better. But I understand—you’re new and you are suffering from Verg’s treatment, too. Plus I'm not supposed to be in here, so it wasn't so bad that you hurried along. So I forgive you. _Today_. Next time, I will expect you to last a little longer for me, or we’ll be doing this the other way around.”

He smiles wickedly, leaving me utterly spent and relaxed on the bed. The meaning of his words doesn't sink in right away, and I feel flustered and nervous when it finally does. He creeps over to the door after tying his robe and disappears from my room, looking down the hallway carefully before he leaves. I hear the lock click softly.

Afterward, I feel much better. That was _way_ better than what Verg was doing to me. My body, at least, enjoyed it—though I am flooded with guilt. Though Aoba didn’t look like he was in pain, much to my surprise. I relax in the afterglow and drift off into sleep, the stress from my shoulders is even lighter than I expected.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately for poor Konoe, Trip is not at all pleased that the star student paid him a visit. After making several threats, Virus convinces Konoe his last chance to appease them at Halfway is to complete a test--a scavenger hunt.
> 
> I should probably mention this is a humiliating, gross, and brutal chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to post a trigger warning for eating disorders, I’m really sorry if you read this and were offended or grossed out. My writing style tends towards fetishistic (if that’s a word), and using this as a topic may seem insensitive. If it does, please skip this chapter (and the next)!

“Konoe.”

It’s Virus who rouses me from my sleep. I am still fuzzy-headed and exhausted from last night’s and this morning’s activities. My body is sore—my muscles ache—and my shoulders feel cramped and tight.

“Kitten.”

I feel the mattress sink in with a medium weight, and Virus’s fingers caress my thighs. It sends a repulsive shiver through my body, making me feel vulnerable and exposed. Plus my groin is sore and achy, probably from all the excessive touching yesterday.

“Wake up, princess.”

His voice is neutral and calm but from his expression, I can tell he is upset with me.

“Sir?” I ask, my throat is dry and sore. I want some water more than anything.

He sighs heavily.

“It seems you received a visitor this morning. An _unauthorized_ visitor.”

I flatten my ears.

“Aoba? Did you meet Aoba?”

I nod and whisper, “Yes, sir.”

Obviously, I’m restrained on the bed and I couldn’t have prevented Aoba from visiting me. Surely, Virus can’t be upset with me about that.

“Do you realize that you are not permitted to spend time with him without paying for his time? And since you are not yet employed and have no source of income, we are forced to add this cost to your tab.”

“What?”

“Not only that, but I heard from Verg that he left you in a certain state, meaning to relieve you at a later time. His plans did not include our star pupil.”

“I-i c-could not stop him!”

“So he did relieve you? It looks like Verg’s effect on you has worn off.”

“He did—but I didn’t ask him to!”

“That doesn’t matter. You should have refused him and resisted him or called out for help. You didn’t. That amounts to disobedience as far as Verg is concerned. You’ve forced him to redo his experiment on you from last night! He also expressed great displeasure in how much you resisted his kind lesson.”

“N-no… I didn't... please…” I don’t ever want to see that devil again. It was too overwhelming and horribly uncomfortable. Even the thought of being aroused again today is painful.

Virus sighs again, indicating his disappointment. I’ve already learned that sigh is a sign of something awful to come, and I start to get very nervous.

“Listen, kitten. I’ve had a little sit-down with the board here at Halfway. There is a concern for your success. While you definitely have the look we want from our kittens, you do not seem to have the ability to conform to our behavior standards.”

“N-no—I c-can do better—”

“Even this morning, I see you’ve lost the ability to speak to me respectfully. The moment you feel any sort of anxiety, your respect goes out the window. That is unacceptable.”

“Please!” I do not want to be locked up in a closed container or in that cell with snakes for three days! I do not want to see Verg again, either! “Please! Sir! I’m sorry! Please—let me try again, sir!”

“Well, after discussing it with our board, I have come up with a solution. It’s a test of sorts.”

“A test?”

“Yes. If you pass the test, we will know that you _do_ have a chance of success here at Halfway. If you fail, however…” his voice trails off, sending my anxiety through the roof. “If you fail, we will have to give you a trial as an outside employee.”

“Outside employee?”

“Yes. We will rent you out to whoever is willing to pay for your services.”

“What will be required of me?” I dare to ask. "Services"? I think. What is that supposed to mean?!

“As an employee on outside contract? Well, we have agreements in place with local brothels, taverns, and inns in which you could probably succeed if you were placed there. I should warn you, though. As an outside employee, you will be subject to Ransen’s slave laws. They do not treat slaves as kindly as we do. Your punishment for any sort of disrespect, disobedience, or non-compliance will be swift, public, and severe.”

“Public?” I am trying not to think about the word he just used, “severe.”

“Slaves are punished publicly in the square—by whipping or flogging—even for minor infractions like what you have already been punished for here. It gets worse on the outside.”

“Please,” I breathe, my body quivering in fear. My ears are pressed flat against my head. “Don’t make me do that. _Please_. I will do _anything_!”

“Well, lucky for you, I have come up with the perfect test. We often use these sorts of games as rewards for our best pupils. But in your case, we’ve had to be a bit more… creative. You will take part in a scavenger hunt.”

“…”

I have no idea what he could possibly mean. A scavenger hunt? I don’t even know what that is! It sounds like something pirates would do!

“Don’t worry. You will be told exactly what is expected of you every step of the way. I will start by giving you your first task. After you complete the task you have been given, you will receive another task to complete. Each person interacting with you will score your performance—including respect, compliance, and submission. Once you have completed all the tasks, the board will meet and we will discuss your results and your future.”

I swallow nervously. I’m still not sure I understand the point of this.

“Each task is something you are expected to learn or do at some point, as our guest here at Halfway. It will be a learning experience for you—only instead of taking several weeks to train you, this puts pressure on you to comply with our orders immediately. We can see what you are made of in a matter of a day or two.”

I’m still restrained against the bed, my body flushing from being naked and exposed. And I am now terribly concerned about what sort of tasks they will have me perform.

“What will be expected of me? Sir?” I ask, very meekly. I almost don't want to know!

“Well, I don’t want to ruin the surprise. But don’t worry about your first task. The first one is right here in my pocket.” Virus pulls a folded piece of paper from his pocket. “Are you game?”

The alternative is sending me out in public as a _slave_. I didn’t know Ransen was a city that kept slaves, much less had a code for dealing with them. But this game has got to be better than being a slave! And if I will have to do all the tasks eventually anyway, maybe it makes sense that I get through it all at once and see if this is something I can tolerate.

If I don’t succeed, perhaps I can escape once I am out in the city.

The blonde cat leans up and releases my wrists from their restraints. I let out a soft sigh of relief when my shoulders are back to their normal position. Virus touches my chin gently, making me lift my gaze to meet his eyes. He keeps hold of my chin in his hand, leans in, and kisses my lips. It’s a lot like how Aoba kissed me—gently and almost lovingly—and it fills me with disgust. I _hate_ it, and I cannot hide my bristling fur or swaying tail.

“Already, from your response, I can see you are not going to fare very well. However, you deserve the chance to _try_ to please us, I suppose. Well. Shall we see what your first assignment is?”

He unfolds the paper—and I see there is a score sheet on the back with room for notes. He reads out loud: “Attend Trip in his room for breakfast.”

My ears perk up. Is that it? It seems utterly ridiculous! But then, Virus looks at me and continues, “Remember, you will be scored for respect, compliance, and submission.”

Still. This seems ridiculous to me.

“Trip’s room is down at the end of the hall on your right.” Virus makes an ushering gesture with his hand, indicating I should leave. He also gives me the sheet of paper.

“But…”

“Do you want to skip the test and go straight down the contract employee path?” Virus sounds slightly sharper.

“I-it’s just… I don’t have any clothes.”

Virus lifts his eyebrows and gestures toward the door with his hands again.

“ _Go_.”

“But—”

“If I have to ask you to begin one more time, you will lose your chance to show me that you can, indeed, play by our rules here. _Go_.”

A soft whine escapes my mouth—almost like a sob—and I slip out of bed on my unsteady, bare legs. I bristle up my fur and cover myself with my hands and that sheet of paper as best I can, but I feel my cheeks burning. But what choice do I have?

I slip out the door before Virus changes his mind. I scurry down the hall, hoping I won’t run into anyone else there and find the last room in the hall on the right. At first, I’m not sure if I should just go in or if I should knock. Surely, it would be more respectful to knock?

Tap, tap, tap.

Using my claws, I tap three times on the door, hoping no one will answer. But right away, I hear a gruff voice rumbling, “Come in.”

Lowering my face, I push open the door and enter the room. I find I am unable to keep my head lowered because I have never seen a room like this. The floors are tiled black and white, the walls painted black and covered in striped black and white wallpaper below the chair railings. The ceiling is white and there’s a giant chandelier hanging in the center of the room. There’s a fireplace—with a small fire going, much to my dismay, a desk, a small sitting area, and a giant bed covered in what looks like black silk bedding.

“Good morning, kitten. I see you’ve agreed to play our little game. I'm excited for you.” Trip stands up from where he is seated, but he doesn’t move closer to me. I look up and see a cart of beautiful decorated desserts and cakes on the table. Trip is dressed in his usual colors of lime green and black and white, and he stands out fantastically in this otherwise monochrome room.

I lower my eyes again and whisper, “Yes, sir.”

“Now, if you _were_ a respectful little kitten, I think you’d be on your knees about now.”

My chin jerks suddenly, and I quickly obey. I hadn’t even thought about that! But I move to my knees as quickly as possible.

“I-i, um, a-apologize, sir.”

“Why don’t you bring me your assignment?”

Just as I try to stand up, Trip raises his hand toward me.

“No. Stay on your knees.”

Slightly confused, I crawl over to where he is standing, and I give him the paper.

“I see. Wonderful.” He strokes my ears gently. “You have the prettiest fur. You know, this fur looks soft, but it’s even plusher than it looks. I think it will do you wonderful favors in your life if you learn how to use it.”

Use my fur? I don’t understand what he means, but I don’t say anything. I just stay on my knees for now.

“Well. Let’s get started. I heard Verg paid you a visit last night. You must be starving after expending that kind of energy. Come a little closer.”

The large blonde cat with fluffy red fur takes a seat on a sofa next to the cart containing all the food.

“Now. The question is, will you be a good little kitten for me? Come a little closer, I said. I’m not going to bite.”

I’m already close to him, but I creep up a little closer so I’m right in front of his knees. I keep my gaze on my hands, trying not to think about the fact that I am naked.

Suddenly and quite roughly, my chin is grabbed. I startle and bristle my fur, but I try not to fight. I watch with a mix of fascination and disgust as Trip grabs a large piece of the pink and white cake in his fingers and shoves it into my mouth.

I gag a little when his fingers push into my mouth since they really do reach in too far—but I am desperate not to bite him. Before I can chew or swallow, another huge piece of cake is shoved in after the first. Frosting and saliva drip out of the corners of my mouth and I cough, trying not to be dramatic. The moment I cough, another piece of cake is shoved inside. Now there is so much in my mouth I can’t even chew. Fear rises in my chest. I feel like I might suffocate, and I try to pull my face away.

“Now, now. Remember your assignment. Already, you have shown disrespect by not entering my room on your knees. And I think this behavior is neither submissive or compliant. Relax and eat what you are offered.”

Choking again, I feel utterly foolish that I was expecting some shared meal with him—not whatever force-feeding session this is. I squeeze my eyes closed and make a small protesting sound—begging him for a moment to let me swallow what is in my mouth.

I am given just a second, but the bite is so big it feels like a lump going down my throat. I think on another occasion, it might taste good. I like sweets. But I do not like this much of any sweet thing. And I certainly do not like being handled like this!

When I happen to glance at the table, I see about a quarter of the round cake is missing—probably stuffed in my mouth all at once. I feel sick to my stomach.

What would happen if I vomit? Fresh fear floods my body and I protest again softly—but more cake is shoved into my mouth.

“It’s good, isn’t it? Sweet things for sweet kittens. If only you would relax a little.”

At this point, I’m not simply kneeling and submitting to this treatment. He has pulled me in between his legs and is pinning my body in place, grabbing my head with one hand and shoving cake into my mouth with another.

Desperately, I gag hard enough so I end up spitting out some of the cake, and it spills onto the floor.

“Oh, bad kitty! You’ll have to clean that up.”

He stands up enough to push my face into the glob of cake and icing that has splattered onto the tile. It’s warm and mushy since it just came out of my mouth. I gag violently again when I’m forced to eat it off the floor. It's utterly gross!

“Lick my fingers, too. You are not very good at this. If you are gagging now, just think of what will happen with your first few clients.”

I’m hoping I won’t have any customers who want to force-feed me cake. It’s utterly disgusting!

This torture goes on for longer than I care to admit—and my body ends up covered in cake and frosting. It’s dripping down my throat, my chest, even to my abdomen.

“Go ahead and groom yourself a little, kitten. You’re a mess.”

I do as he suggests, grooming the cake off my body. Each additional burst of sugar on my tongue makes me feel like I’m going to be sick. I’m actually extremely proud of myself that I didn’t end up throwing up on his floor. I’m terrified he’d make me lick that up, too.

The “breakfast with Trip” assignment lasted about 30 minutes. As I’m finishing up straightening my fur and licking off my body—though I’m still a bit sticky—Trip hands me another note.

“On to your next task. Be sure you give this to your handler so he can grade your efforts. I just hope you have more success with the next task.”

My ears droop as I open the next piece of paper. It reads, “Brush your teeth and get cleaned up in the bathing chamber.”

I don’t see a name on there, so perhaps I won’t have to deal with anyone else for this task. I could certainly use a break after this. Maybe I can rid myself of some of this heaviness in my stomach as well.

As respectfully as I can, I thank Trip for his guidance—it’s repulsive to do this but I have to if I want to seem compliant—and then bow my head. I stand up and walk to the door, ignoring Trip’s complaint about me not staying on my knees in his presence. I’ve had _enough_. I just want to clean up. I remember where that nice bathroom is from last night, and that’s where I go.

Imagine my surprise when Dr. Arbitro meets me at the door, taking the paper from my hand and making me expose myself to him!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Konoe starts step 2 of the scavenger hunt--and has a pretty serious encounter with Arbitro.
> 
> Trigger warnings abound: medical torture, trauma, bodily harm, branding, forced vomiting, forced enema, humiliation, non-con touching and more. Note the updated tags.
> 
> (Really, stay away from this fic is these sorts of things trigger you.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you start this chapter, consider if you like Arbitro as a person/character. If he is NOT your cup of tea, you will not enjoy this chapter.
> 
> Also, if you think I should do chapter summaries on this fic, I will. Just let me know.

Devastated that it is Dr. Arbitro who is ushering me into the bathing area, my hopes of completing an easy task are dashed in an instant. When I walk into the chamber, it’s set up with several medical-looking stations, lots of tools I don't recognize. My stomach drops to my knees, and I consider turning around and racing out the door. I don’t, of course. I’m naked. I would be foolish to run out into the streets of Ransen when I’m undressed. Even _I_ know that.

The doctor seems to sense my hesitation, and he grips my shoulder in what he deems to be a reassuring manner. My body rejects his touch, and I feel myself trying to tear away from him. His free hand skates down my shoulders and back, resting at the base of my tail, which he massages gently.

“Now, now, kitten. I _know_ you can make it here. If you were a regular here at Halfway, surely I’d be your very best customer.”

Literally, I feel bile rising in my throat at the thought of this cat touching me sexually. He’s also standing close enough to me to brush that obnoxious fuchsia feather boa against my bare skin. It’s _revolting_.

“There’s no need to be so nervous,” he whispers into my ear. “We are just going to get you nice and clean and _prepared_ for the day.”

The equipment I see does not look like anything I’d use in the shower, however. I use a bar of soap and a washcloth, and this is way more intense and frightening. Still, though my body moves woodenly, I don’t resist or try to escape. I figure I have to get this done one way or the other, so I plan to do my best.

“We can start with your teeth. I’m sure after seeing that monster Trip, you’ll want to brush your teeth. Come on over to the sink.”

Forcing my legs to move, I follow where he leads—and he is so incredibly touchy it’s uncomfortable. My stomach roils and I feel nauseated, but I don’t protest. He stands me in front of a sink, and I can see his eyes through his mask in the mirror. His mouth is curved up in a creepy smile, and he pushes up behind my body close enough so I can feel his groin pressing against my ass.

“Tell me, did you eat anything healthy?”

“Um…” I’m unsure how to answer. If I tell the truth, will he be upset? Will I get in trouble for what Trip made me eat?

“I know Trip has a sweet tooth. He pressures all of our guests to over-imbibe.”

“I just had cake.”

“How much cake?”

“I think he fed me a little more than a quarter of one?”

“Wow. That is too much! Before we brush your teeth, let’s just fix that. We can’t have you overindulging in sugar. It’s not good for your figure, which is one of the best things you have going for you.”

With those words, he pushes my face down into the sink and, to my shock and horror, he forces three fingers into my mouth. I am so surprised by this action I hardly know what to do, but my torso is forced low against the sink, as I brace myself on the sides of the sink with my arms. The porcelain is cold and uncomfortable—but not nearly as uncomfortable as the gag reflex that is currently being forced from me.

My mouth floods with saliva and I start to cough and gag—it’s horribly unpleasant. I’ve never even made _myself_ throw up. Even when I know I’ve eaten something that I need to get rid of, I always let my body decide where and how to eliminate what it needs to eliminate. I’m shocked that a doctor would be doing something this violent to me.

“That’s right. Relax the rest of your body and don’t fight so much. Just let it out.”

Sure enough, the cake comes back up my throat and spills into the sink—a disgusting blob of sugar and stomach acid, and it tastes even worse coming up than it did going down. Looking at it while gagging again and again, my stomach cramps and I swear I will never eat anything sweet again.

“Keep going—almost done, I think,” Dr. Arbitro whispers. He is holding me against the sink with his body, one hand in my mouth, continuing to caress the back of my throat with his fingers, while the other hand gently strokes my shoulders. I think I feel his dick getting hard behind me, and it's incredibly unnerving. He switches on the faucet, letting the water wash away the disgusting mess in the sink.

I must throw up at least five times. It isn’t till a yellow bile is all that is expelled from my mouth that I realize I must have thrown up my entire stomach contents. Oddly, after vomiting, my body feels exhausted and relaxed, and my stomach feels a little better, though my throat is very sore.

“Good boy. I wish you would have complied a little better, though. It’s much less unpleasant if you just relax,” Arbitro says.

I’m going to be graded on _that_ —and a shudder courses through my body. Is this something they do to their “guests” on a regular basis? Certainly, I need to get out of here!

“Now, let’s brush your pretty teeth.”

I watch, still hanging onto the sink desperately and breathing heavily, as he prepares a toothbrush and toothpaste. I straighten my back a little and reach out for the toothbrush, but Arbitro clicks his tongue several times.

“I don’t think so, sweetheart. Your job is to _submit_ to this. Trust me.”

My ears flatten when he tells me to trust him, but I open my mouth and squeeze my eyes closed. It’s weird when I feel the toothbrush scrubbing my teeth, paying careful attention to my gums and my fangs.

“You know, for a street urchin, you have beautiful teeth. That’s good, or I’d have to get our local dentist in to fix you up. Just keep up the good work and you will be fine.”

He talks to me casually and honestly, this part of the exam isn’t so horrible. It tickles and it’s a little frightening to deliberately expose such a vulnerable part of my body to him. At least until he starts to brush my tongue.

“Stick out your tongue, kitten. Let’s get your breath nice and fresh.”

I obey and immediately start to gag again. Nothin else comes out because there is nothing left in my stomach, but I can’t help the reflex.

“Ah, that’s right. We will need to train you out of this reflex quickly. Your customers won’t be pleased with you gagging on them. That’s not sexy at _all_.”

My fur bristles and I try to relax—but each time that toothbrush touches toward the back of my tongue, I cough again. Finally, I’m handed a cup with water and told to rinse.

“Well, you did well for the tooth brushing part, but I won’t be able to give you a good score on the entire experience. Not to worry. We’re not finished here yet, so you still have a chance to impress me.”

He leads me to the large shower area, where I see a strange-looking soft rubber bottle—it looks like a hot water bottle—and a long length of tubing.

“On your knees, kitten.”

I obey, still a little confused.

“Before we bathe you, you should know that you will have clients who want _all_ of you clean,” the doctor says. I am watching as he turns on the faucet and fills up the hot water bottle with warm water and adds something else to it—salt, maybe. “Our clients come to access _every_ inch of you—both inside and out. And like brushing your teeth, this is a great way to clean another part of your body that you may not often think about but will certainly become a bigger part of your life. Now, get on all fours and lower your torso as close to the floor as you can get.”

My nerves increase to complete anxiety when he gives me those instructions. I am suddenly terrified I know what he is planning to do with that tubing, and I don’t want that. It’s too humiliating!

“Please, um—”

“What? Do you think you can do it yourself? I don’t think so. Have you ever done this before?”

I shake my head, my body trembling. If he's going to do what I think he's going to do, then no. I have never done this to myself!

“I didn’t think so. That’s why you need to help of a trained medical professional to assist you. Assume the position.”

“Isn’t there some other way—?”

“There isn’t. Get into position before I have to punish you.”

“Please—”

Arbitro is holding some of the tubing in his hand, and it lashes out like a whip quite suddenly. It hits my ass and the back of my thighs, catching a little fur on my tail. I yelp in pain and consider my options again.

Before I can obey, I’m whipped again, quite suddenly—this time, the tubing strikes my lower back and ass. It _hurts_!

“Please— _please_ ,” I beg, getting on all fours immediately, knowing that this makes me even more exposed and vulnerable. Tears are sneaking down my cheeks and I am horrified with what is about to be done to me. “Please—don’t hurt me.”

“If you’d obey right away, you’d realize this isn’t going to hurt you at all. In fact, it will make your upcoming training much more pleasant. Although, I’ll be damned if your ass isn’t designed for that sort of activity.”

His hands intrusively grab my ass, lifting my tail and pushing it out of the way. I protest with a mewling whine, and he smacks my ass, right on the center, hard. I yelp again in pain, squeezing my legs together.

“Relax and submit. Quit your whining till I’m doing something that _actually_ hurts you, kitten. Spread your legs a little. No, I said _spread_ them. _More_ than that. Wider. There you go.”

I’m utterly exposed in front of this horrible doctor—and I am terrified when I feel his hands prying my cheeks apart. I’m slapped again when my tail automatically lowers to protect myself. My body still does not think being touched there is normal or comfortable, and I cry out when he spanks me.

“I said, _relax_. No one is doing anything to hurt you, kitten. Yet.” The fact that he adds that last word makes me feel sick. I’m suddenly thankful that the contents of my stomach are empty.

My body quivers and shakes when I feel his fingers prying inside my asshole, and I end up lifting my torso a bit when I first feel the tube slipping into my body. I’m immediately forced down to the ground, and tears of humiliation and disgust spill down my face. I work hard not to make any noise—suppressing soft meows and sobs. I have never been treated like this!

Probably four inches of tube pushes inside my body. It’s not as painful as Trip's or Verg’s fingers (nor nearly as disturbing as his electric shocks), but it’s very uncomfortable and embarrassing. I keep my face lowered to the floor and suddenly, I feel a gush of warm water surging into my body from the tube.

All my fur bristles at once and a small sound escapes my mouth.

“Hush now. It isn’t hurting you. Just _relax_ ,” Arbitro says, massaging my butt cheeks in what I suppose he thinks is a soothing manner. It is not at _all_ soothing, however. It increases my anxiety, and my body starts to feel very full. He leaves the tube inside me even after I no longer feel liquid surging up inside me, and his fingers ghost over my entrance. “You look so pretty and pink—like a little flower waiting to bloom. Now, hold it as long as you can.”

Suddenly, I feel like I have to relieve myself—and in a really urgent way.

“Not yet, kitten.”

There is no way in hell he is going to make me shit myself here—in front of him… is there? That’s barbaric! I struggle with everything I’ve got to keep my urge in check, but when the tube is slowly pulled out of my body, I realize I _really_ have to go. I'm desperate!

“Please! _Please_! Just… _please_ —!”

“A little longer, sweetheart. We want it to work as well as it can.” He pets my ass again and strokes my tail, and I squeeze my thighs together and lower my butt to the floor. “Good. Now. Go ahead.”

My ears perk up and I turn to look at him in spite of myself. He cannot _possibly_ mean I should just poop right here! When he sees the look of absolute horror on my face, he smiles.

“I _should_ make you go right here with the look you're giving me. But I don’t think we want that kind of mess. Use the toilet over there.”

I scurry to the toilet as fast as I can and let everything out of my body. It makes a horrendous noise, making me incredibly embarrassed. I cannot remember the last time I actually took a shit in front of another cat—and now I understand why this is something we do in private. I cannot look at him, though I know he is watching me and continues speaking in that soft voice.

“Just relax and let it all out. You will be so nice and clean now.”

When I finally finish, I am exhausted—in the same way I was exhausted after being forced to vomit. I can hardly lift myself up from the toilet—and there’s no paper. Nothing to wipe myself with.

“Oh, just move over to the bidet. I’ll help you if you haven’t used one before.”

Next to the toilet is a smaller toilet—or what I thought was a small toilet—without an actual seat. Arbitro pushes me down on it, so I’m sitting on the rim. I saw there were controls behind the seat, and to my surprise, a stream of warm water flows up and around my ass and balls. It isn't painful. It's quite soothing.

“There. Isn’t that nice? Now you’re all clean and fresh. We have to work on a few things, though. It’s nice you’re blonde, but I think we need to at least trim this fur.”

I touch my ears gently, wondering what he means. My ears are white and brown, like my tail. The only hair on my body that is blonde is the fine, silky fur that starts just below my navel. He’s going to trim it?

“Come on up here.”

There’s a medical-looking padded table in the room and I am pushed down onto it, on my back.

“Scoot your cute little ass down toward me, kitten, and put your feet up in the stirrups.”

The fuck? He pulls out small footrests from the edge of the table and helps guide my feet into them. This leaves my genitals completely and utterly exposed and it’s incredibly shameful.

“Look at those ears! They get pink when you are embarrassed, don’t they? Just utterly _enchanting_! All I’m going to do is give you, say, a little trim down here, in case you have any clients who want to take you in their mouth. It makes it much more pleasant, you see.”

I flinch when I see the small scissors in his hand, gasping in terror.

“Don’t worry. As long as you don’t move even an inch, you won’t be injured. I have a very steady hand. Just don’t move.”

That’s easier said than done since I’m sort of holding myself up with my legs. He pulls up a stool and sits down between my legs. At least I can stare up at the ceiling—there’s a pretty glass skylight right above me—so I don’t have to watch him. My ears twitch when I hear the scissors snipping and trimming my fur. It really isn’t very long, so he uses a small comb to assist. It’s just a weird and embarrassing thing to have done by anyone else.

“Now, you should be good for a while there. We will check you daily and give you a trim if needed, or if you should have any complaints from clients in that department.”

He squeezes the inside of my thigh and I sit up.

“Now it’s time for bathing.”

He starts me under the shower, using a long-handled bath brush to scrub my back, my ass, my legs, and every part of me he can reach. If I don’t move the way he wants me to move _right_ when he asks, he swats me with the back of the brush—and damn, if that doesn’t hurt more than even the tubing did! I comply quickly, trying to avoid punishment as much as possible.

By the end of the shower, my fur is shampooed and conditioner has been applied to my hair, and I am _exhausted_.

“Let’s have you relax in the bath for a while. I want to take care of your nails and your hair.”

I sit on the side of the pool of hot water, which seems to be filled with some sort of oil or scented herbs. It’s relaxing, but I notice Arbitro keeps the bath brush handy in case he needs to mold my behavior.

After combing the conditioner through my hair and the fur on my ears and tail, he files my claws blunt and short. He scrubs the bottom of my feet and checks for any callouses, but he’s pleased with my feet. Then, he uses a small basin to rinse the conditioner from my hair and fur.

I’m utterly tired, and I want nothing more than to lie down in my bed and never get up again. But instead, the doctor’s cheerful voice rings out, “Out of the water. Let’s get on with it.”

To my dismay, after my body is dried off with a towel—which he is sure to take away from me, leaving me feeling even more exposed than I felt in the water—I’m led back to that table. This time, he pushes me onto my stomach, and I obey.

He combs my hair and brushes my fur so it won’t knot.

“I’d like to see your hair a little longer, I think. It is such a lovely color,” he muses. “I’m not sure you noticed, but _all_ the guests at Halfway are marked. That’s to ensure that if you should ever go missing, we can locate you easily. You will quickly be returned to us.”

I turn my head to look at him again.

“Don’t worry. It’s not terribly painful. And the painful part only takes a second. I think you are a high flight risk—from your earlier behavior and attitude—so I’d like to do a public marking on you to discourage you from trying to escape.”

He shows me a small gold ring. It has a charm hanging from it—it looks like a script H.

“This is our logo. Pretty, don’t you think? I think gold suits you better than silver. And again, you’ll want to be sure not to move at all now, all right?”

He has rolled the small stool down to the head of the table, and he pushes my head down against the padded surface.

“I’ll disinfect the area first. We will have to keep this clean while it’s healing, you know.”

I feel something ice-cold dripping on the tip of my ear and then seeping down the base. He uses a small cloth to wipe up the excess, making sure it doesn’t get in my hair, but the temperature feels like some sort of alcohol. And why is he putting it on my ear?

Because my cheek is pressed against the table, I can’t see what he is doing. Suddenly, I feel an uncomfortable prick toward the tip of my ear. Then—a bright burst of pain lights up, making me scream and try to get away.

“I said, don’t move! You’ll only make it worse!”

My ass is swatted hard with the bath brush and I try my best to settle down—but my ear is burning like it’s been torn. A sickening feeling floats around in my gut when I ear something sliding through what feels like a fresh hole in my tender skin. When I flick my ear, I can feel the charm on the hoop touching the fur inside my ear, and I can hear the soft jingling sound, metal against metal, of it as well.

“It’s beautiful. I’ll show you in a minute, but let’s finish up this unpleasant part, all right?”

The doctor stands up from the end of the table and walks around to the middle. He pushes down on my lower back, and I hear a sizzling sound. It’s hot and dangerous sounding—like flesh burning—and just as quickly there’s a horrible burning sensation on the center my right cheek. It gets hotter and hotter—and I scream in pain—it’s much worse than the ear-piercing. I can’t move, though, since my back is being pinned against the bed—and soon, the heat is taken away from my body.

In its wake, however, I can feel a small area, maybe the size of two thumbnails, radiating with pain and heat, seeming to spread out farther and farther.

“It’s just a little mark. But in case you should figure out how to remove the earring, we want to be sure you are marked _permanently_ , too.”

The small area singes with pain and heat, and it’s now rapidly spread to the rest of my butt. Tears are flowing down my face at this point, and I pant quietly to catch my breath.

“It’s not a big thing. Just a small brand. It suits you quite well. I’m afraid it may sting a bit when I clean the area, however.”

And just like that, that same cold feeling splashes against the mark on my ass, and it burns even more than the original brand did. I struggle to escape his grasp—but he keeps me firmly pinned in place.

“Don’t overreact. It will calm down in a minute.”

I am sobbing by the time the pain starts to settle, and I am able to calm my body and stop struggling.

“There. That wasn’t great, but it was better than it could have been. Now for the fun part.”

There’s liquid drizzled on my back and shoulders—and I realize he is now rubbing oil into my skin. I flinch the closer he gets to the brand, but he feels free to touch it as well—and it burns again, making me cry, but I force myself not to struggle.

Once he’s finished—he even covers the backs of my legs and my feet—he tells me to turn over. I obey—and I realize I can’t rest my butt on the table without severe pain.

“Lie down,” Arbitro orders.

I really do try to obey, hissing whenever my burnt skin touches the table.

“Listen, kitten. I have to apply the oil to the front of your body as well. Just relax. It will hurt a little less in a while. Put up with it. Beauty is best when it comes from pain, after all.”

I do my best, still hissing, but finally able to rest my ass against the cool surface. The skin that isn’t actually branded feels nice against the leather surface. But the brand itself is really painful. I try to ignore it—and I succeed when Arbitro starts lathering my chest and hips up with oil. He doesn’t skip my groin, either—and I have to work to keep my hips pressed against the table.

“Huh. So pain doesn’t quite do it for you? That’s too bad. Perhaps you could learn,” he says softly.

Then, he pulls me up to sit—and the brand is located right underneath me, so of course, it burns when it bears weight. But I don’t resist. He runs the brush through my hair and fur again.

“All clean, all marked, all ready for your next activity, I think. Don’t you feel better, sweet kitty?”

I nod my head, though my face is still covered with tears.

“Oh, knock this off. There’s no reason to cry. We haven’t done anything to you.”

I swallow and nod again, wiping my tears on the back of my hand. They have, in fact, done something to me. _Permanently_. I see it in the mirror when he has me stand up. Not only the piercing—which does actually suit me, much to my surprise—but the brand. A cursive uppercase H right in the center of my ass cheek. I belong to this place now and even if I ran, I would always be returned here. And probably soundly punished.

“All right. Let’s get your next assignment. Ah, lucky you. You’re off to see Verg next.”

He hands me a slip of paper and I suppress the urge to scream out loud. I’m in pain, exhausted, humiliated, and utterly frustrated. I need to get out of here before they kill me. Suddenly the blue-haired cat’s mannerisms from this morning make a lot more sense. I wonder how many times I would have to be subjected to this sort of treatment before I too gave up?


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Konoe's next task is with Verg. You can guess how it goes.
> 
> Triggers abound in this chapter. Rape and painful sex as punishment, physical injury, angst, and fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be forewarned I am having a Shit Day. This is a horribly abusive chapter.

Naked and shivering, covered with exhaustion, my fur fluffy and my claws drawn, I hesitate outside of Verg’s door. He’s the _last_ person I want to see today. But if I don’t go in, I may be sent off-campus for even worse treatment. This scavenger hunt makes me feel complicit in my own suffering. What, really, is making me obey the instructions on the notes? Fear of something even worse? And in all probability, I will probably receive low scores on all of the tasks anyway and be rented out as a slave for Ribika only knows what purpose!

My ear is throbbing and the brand on the back of my thigh still burns. I’m sure the burn will change to an itch after a while, but I just don’t want to deal with it anymore.

Somehow, I get the strength to raise my hand and rap my claws against the door, praying that no one will answer.

Verg actually opens the door, an evil gleam in his eye.

“Welcome, kitten. Do come in. I’ve been expecting you.”

I lower my face, mostly to get away from that creepy gaze, walk through the door and kneel on the floor in the center of the room. When he walks over to me, he touches my chin gently, nudging my face upward.

“Let me see your task.”

I hand him the paper, refusing to make eye contact.

“Hmm. It seems you’d rather not be here. The fact that I can tell that you’re unwilling to be here doesn’t bode well for your score.”

You know? _Fuck_ this! Fuck _all_ of this! I jerk up my gaze and meet his eye, my eyes narrowed.

“You’re right!I _don’t_ want to be here! It’s fucking _pointless_!” My voice comes out loud and angry. “ _Fuck_ this shit! Fuck _you_ and your damned scavenger hunt! You’ve all set me up to fail, probably so you can punish me for my shortcomings! Fuck _you_!”

I climb to my feet—or try to--my fur bristling, and Verg leers at me, effortlessly pushing me back to my knees.

“It seems you’ve discovered our little secret. We _know_ you won’t succeed. We just want to have a little fun with you before we send you out to our more, say, _demanding_ clients. As for me, I can’t wait.”

He peers down at me, holding me in that submissive kneel, even as I struggle against him.

“You’re really in no shape to fight me. And yet, you aren’t giving in to despair. It’s what makes you interesting. Makes me wonder what it would take to _break_ you.”

“Fuck _you_!” Despite the fact that I know I’m making things worse for myself, I continue to struggle against him. “Let me go!”

“I don’t think so,” Verg growls. But he grabs my ear—the one that hasn’t been pierced—and pinches it firmly between his fingers. He yanks it—hard—and I yelp. He doesn’t have sensitive ears like a cat so he can’t have a clue as to how much it hurts! “I want to show you what happens to kittens who don’t submit their will to ours. I cannot _wait_.”

He pulls me to my feet by my ear, leaving me squealing in pain, and pushes me to the giant bed in the room facedown. It’s covered in black and gray silk and satin sheets, and the texture is cool and almost slimy against my body. Fear shoots through my body, mixing with rage, and I am overwhelmed.

“Let me _go_!”

He holds me in place by my lower back, combing his claws through the fur on my tail. Suddenly, my hair is yanked back—hard—and I hear something cracking in my neck, pain shooting down my arms to the tips of my fingers. Tears spill from my eyes but it hurts so much it takes my breath away, leaving me unable to scream. Instead, I pant, taking in as much air as I possibly can.

“Look at your pretty little gold hoop. Gold suits you.” He fingers the hoop, pulling lightly on the earring, sending sharp pain down my ear to my scalp. My neck—I think he’s done something to it—something permanent. I can still move, but it hurts! My temples ache as well—on both sides of my head—and I feel like I’m going to be sick. “And your brand is utterly gorgeous.”

I flinch before he can touch it, and he doesn’t appreciate my resistance. I feel a knee pressing against my torso, holding me to the bed. Thankfully he releases my hair, but the same cracking sensation from my neck happens in my back, too. I feel like I can hardly breathe and for my own safety, I stop my struggle, letting my body relax into the bed. I squeeze my eyes shut tight—though I know he’s going to touch the brand.

He does—slowly and lightly—lighting up the area with burning pain.

“You’re in bad shape, aren’t you? Even though you’re all clean and ready for the next step in training. Let me help you a little.”

An electric shock courses through the base of my tail, ruffling the fur out to the tip and sending waves of pleasure through my body. It barely registers as pain at all—only the pleasure remains. My sobs change to something more indulgent. He doesn’t wait for me to catch my breath before shocking me several more times.

“You know what’s coming next, don’t you?”

It’s whispered directly into my fluffy ear, and he follows his words with his tongue. He licks deep inside, and his tongue feels disgusting. It’s too wet and slimy. Revulsion mixes in with desire, fear, and pain—and I realize I am absolutely disgusted with myself for the state I am in. I don’t know what to do and I feel utterly helpless.

“There were two ways this training session could go, but you’ve just lost the chance to do this the easy way.” My ears are stroked gently, making the piercing light up with pain. I try to restrain my voice and try not to move. “That’s okay. I actually _prefer_ the hard way. There’s nothing that feels better than subjugating an unwilling partner. I’m sure that’s how you’ll be used here—your personality lends itself perfectly to it. By the time I’m done with you, you’re going to wish you were willing to submit and comply.”

Another violent shiver of fear rushes through my body. I am tempted to beg for mercy—beg him not to hurt me—but I know my pleas will be ignored. I am in for the worst treatment, and I’m afraid I know what it is. Using this—sexual connection—as discipline horrifies me. I don't want to be a participant in this!

“Will you do this to me every time I disobey? Every time I hesitate?” I whisper.

“Do what?”

“Rape me?!” I burst out. “Do you use _rape_ as a way to make your students comply? Is _that_ why Aoba is the way he is now?!”

“Oh, our little blue-haired kitten is a natural. Of course, he too had to learn about his inner desires. But in you, I see more rebellion and anger. I think you’re much better suited to outside contracts.”

I suppress a sob—unwilling to let him see how upset I am. I don’t have much time to think about that, though, since my body is pulled toward the edge of the bed, positioned ass up with my feet on the floor. I lower my tail reflexively, but I can’t do anything about Verg moving it.

“You know, I think this would be _pleasant_ for you if you’d relax a little. But you do _you_ ,” he growls. My tail is grabbed at the base, and pain bursts through my lower body when two fingers sink into me. I struggle—but I can’t really move. He is pushing against my legs with his body—I can feel the fur on his pants against the backs of my thighs and it fills me with disgust. But then, I feel something liquid and warm melting into me from the tips of his fingers, disgusting me even more. After sending another shock through me at the base of my tail, which lifts me up to my tiptoes, I feel the substance dripping down my insides, coating my inner walls.

I certainly know what he has in mind, and it revolts me.

Even though I am pushing off the mattress as hard as I can, I am unable to move. I am fighting the waves of pleasure and lust that flows through my body after that most recent shock.

“You are so resistant. It’s _such_ a turn on.”

The fingers are pulled out of my ass, and before I can even relax in the relief of the sensation, I hear the rustling of fabric and feel something large and hot pressing against my entrance. My ears bristle, my claws draw against the sheets—and I am filled with terror.

Pain follows as he sinks his dick into me—and tears spill from my eyes from the pain and humiliation of it all. My voice is spilling out in loud cries, and I try to muffle the sound against the mattress. My claws are snapping threads from the comforter underneath them as I struggle to get away. In between my sobbing cries, I think I hear myself yelling, “Don’t! Stop! Don’t _touch_ me!” It’s useless.

But I still don’t give in. Even I know that at this point, I would be better off if I relaxed. It would hurt less. I just can’t bring myself to do submit. The very fact that this place uses sex as a form of discipline repulses me. I won’t be a part of it! I plan to resist to the very last moment.

Hoping that it will hurt less once he advances past the outer ring of muscle, I am sorely disappointed when I feel like my insides are being torn apart, flayed open. It feels like my organs are being pushed into my chest. My heart shatters—this is not what I planned for this kind of sexual experience. I wanted to give myself to someone I loved and cared about, and now I’m being subjugated by my body—by rape. I _hate_ it! I refuse to accept it! I even try to push him out of my body, but that only works in his favor.

A soft chuckle floats into my ear, hands and fingers gently running down my back and sides and waist.

“You feel so good—tight and new and inexperienced—and so angry!”

“Fuck you,” I breathe—but I’m helpless and vulnerable and I know it.

“Keep fighting, kitten. I _love_ it. It makes me want to keep you for myself.”

Terror crawls down my spine at his words, and I wonder again if I shouldn’t just give up. Surely, it won’t hurt so much.

Soon, his thighs are resting against my ass, and he strokes me again from the tips of my ears to the base of my tail, running his claws through the fur. Then, he grabs my hair again and jerks my head up sharply. My neck doesn’t make any noise this time, but pain courses through my shoulders to the tips of my fingers.

“Now. I should let you know what I expect. I can go as long as I need to, but you are _going_ to come from this,” his low, husky voice floats into my ears. “Do you understand? I’m going to fuck you until you submit to pleasure.”

I feel some relief when he lets my head fall back to the mattress, and I dig my claws in even further. I consider his words. Should I try to just hurry up and come? Something hot and wet is dripping down my inner thighs—maybe that stuff he put inside me, maybe blood. I don’t want to think about it. I don’t _want_ to know.

But before I have a chance to relax, Verg starts thrusting his hips—pulling his cock almost all the way out of my body and then pushing back inside. It’s easily as painful as when he first entered me, but it’s a slightly smoother movement. I scream when he moves, though, and he lets out a pleasured groan.

He keeps talking to me about his experience, telling me how popular I’ll be with the clientele, how good I feel inside, how I’d feel good if I just relaxed and _went_ with it, making me feel utterly sick to my stomach. Again, I am almost thankful that Arbitro made me empty the contents of my stomach because bile rises in my throat and I feel nauseated with disgust. I can’t bring myself to submit.

He continues his rough handling of me for some minutes—it feels like an eternity—and my dick is soft because of the pain. To help me along, he claims, he sends another few shocks at the base of my tail. To my horror, it _does_ make pleasure flood my body. And worse, still, even after all this rough treatment, when he thrusts up at a particular angle inside my body, a chill courses through my body.

A gasp that isn’t pain escapes my lips, and Verg responds with a growl.

“Better. Keep it up.”

It isn’t that the sex isn’t painful—it’s _excruciating_. It’s just that now it’s mixing with pleasure as well. It’s disgusting—I hate the combination of feelings, somehow afraid that I won’t be able to distinguish the difference between pleasure and pain. But soon, my body is resisting less, my muscles relax, and I just let him treat me as he likes. And my body finds pleasure in it.

Within another few minutes, I feel my breath quicken. Even though he isn’t touching my dick, he is stroking my tail and that spot inside me—and I know I am approaching my limit. It feels so different from when Aoba climbed on top of me. We had a sort of connection, and this is nothing like this. This feels violent and terrifying.

My chest aches the more my desire increases. It feels like there is a flock of birds inside my body, pushing against my bones, my flesh, my skin, and they want to escape. I don’t know how to handle that sort of pain—this emotional pain—and suddenly my body jolts.

Verg gasps in surprise—and I open my eyes. There is light spilling from me, lighting up the tiny space between my face and the bedspread. And there’s a strange song filling the air. It’s a horrible, dark melody—something like despair and grief and loss and hopelessness interlaced in the melody.

“What’s this? What _are_ you?” He whispers, but he doesn’t change his movements or treat me any better. And the harder he fucks me, the louder and more painful my song becomes. I can’t ever remember this happening before, but desperation will make a cat do many different things. “Magic—it’s spilling from your body.”

The song is somehow soothing—it soothes my feelings, my emotions, and it lets me relax a little. That relaxation is enough to let me sit for just a moment in the pleasure coursing through my body, and then I realize I’m about to climax. My breath quickens, my body stiffens, and indulgence spreads through my body—starting with my insides.

Verg makes a growling sound, almost like he’s consuming my pleasure and my climax, and I just let it come. My vision blanches out and my mind gets wonderfully blank and numb. If I could just hang onto that blank, unfeeling sensation for a second—but I’m roughly thrust back into the real world by the devil thrusting inside me violently. I notice he stutters a little as if it’s harder to push into me, and then I feel more hot fluid spill inside me. He lets out a groan and then stops moving.

The song that had been covering the room, the light that spilled from my body, fades out, leaving me utterly spent and exhausted. I can’t move—not even to crawl up on the bed to rest.

But I’m not allowed to rest. Verg grabs my ear again, making me squeak in pain.

“Kneel.”

He pulls me off the bed and pushes me down to my knees on the hardwood floor. There’s a carpet right next to the bed, but he makes sure I’m positioned on the hard floor.

I feel dirty and sticky—but more exhausted than anything. My chin keeps drooping.

“Don’t you go to sleep. Stay on your knees.”

I try my best, my body shaking with exhaustion. It feels excessively cruel—especially in my current emotional and physical state. My ass is still burning and my thighs are sore, and I’m tired. I just need to rest. To my utter dismay, I lower my torso to the floor in a bow.

“Please. Please. Just let me rest.”

“Kneel,” Verg growls, grabbing my ear and pulling me up to my knees again. “It pleases me to see you there.”

His arms are crossed in front of his body, and he sits down on the bed. Leaning up against the headboard, he looks like he is the king of the world. I’m so discouraged—realizing how little control I have over my fate here—I fight back tears and it’s a losing battle. It isn’t long before I’m suppressing sobs and struggling to wipe the tears from my face. I can’t believe _this_ is my life now! And why? Because I stole a piece of bread to keep from starving? If I had known this was in my future, I would have preferred to starve!

“You’re utterly captivating like this,” Verg says.

There’s a sharp knock on the door, and Verg looks up. I don’t see them, but I sense the presence of both Virus and the horrible doctor.

“What was that sound? Was that _him_?” Virus asks.

“It sounded magical,” Dr. Arbitro says.

“It was him,” Verg says.

“What _is_ he?” Virus asks.

“I think that was the song of a Sanga,” Arbitro says. “Was there light? Warmth?”

“Yeah,” Verg says.

“He looks rather delicious like this, doesn’t he?” Virus says. “And he’s a Sanga. Now, what should we do with him? Can we really lend him out to our partners knowing this?”

The words float in and out of my ears, making little or no sense to me. My neck is hot as is the center of my spine where the devil dug his knee into me. My arms feel weird and tingly, and my head throbs. I don’t listen to their conversation. I am struggling to stay awake and in position, keeping my face pointed toward my hands in my lap.

My _lap_. There’s a sticky white substance that has completely matted the fur beneath my navel, and I feel more sticky lukewarm fluid seeping out beneath me, dripping down my thighs and calves. I feel disgusting and want to just cringe. I inhale a shaky breath, trying to relax.

“It looks like he needs a little care,” Virus said. “Did you really have to be so violent?”

“Yep,” Verg says, unapologetic. “He refused any other way.”

“Well, in a way, it was a good thing,” Arbitro adds. “We wouldn’t have heard his song otherwise.”

“Let’s get him to the next step so we can discuss our next move,” Virus says.

I’m handed a piece of paper. It reads, “The basement.” A sick feeling in my stomach sinks inside me like a stone.

“Please,” I say, looking up at Virus. “I can’t—”

“You can and you will.”

“ _Please_! I know I’m going to fail anyway, so let’s just skip this part—”

“I don’t think so, kitten. You still have a chance to succeed, after all. Especially after that beautiful song. Go on. You know where to go.”

I don’t manage to keep the loud sob from escaping this time, but I climb to my weary, shaky feet and leave the room, heading downstairs. I pass the front door—it looks so tempting, the moon of light shining in through the glass on either side of it, freedom on the other side. It's right there! I consider seriously an escape attempt. Maybe it’s unlocked? But I’m naked. I’m a mess. I’m exhausted. And I’m marked. They will find me and drag me back here.

Instead, I find myself turning toward the cellar stairs. I open the door and walk down the steps, careful to maintain my balance.

Fan art by [Julie_Lilith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Julie_Lilith). I love it!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Konoe's torturous scavenger hunt continues after a minor distraction. He meets the devil of wrath.
> 
> Triggers abound in this chapter, and it's long and horrible. Non-con spanking, angst, torture, asphyxiation, snakes, abandonment. Enjoy!

I only make it down the first three steps when I hear someone knocking at the front door. A mix of shame and hope floods my system, and I freeze on the staircase. If I ran toward the door, would whoever is standing there help me? Or would I make things even worse for myself? I don’t know what to do, but I finally decide to creep back up the three steps and peek out the door and down the hallway.

A young cat I don’t recognize opens the door, and my eyes are suddenly stabbed by a blinding silver. The cat standing outside the door is tall, slender but muscular, with the most gorgeous hair I’ve ever seen—cascading down to his hip, it’s a shimmering white. I hardly have time to notice anything else about him when Virus approaches the front door from the main staircase and blocks my view. His sudden appearance forces me to hide behind the cellar door on the steps, but my ears are perked up and interested.

Could I trust that stranger? Might he be able to help me escape from here? And who _is_ he? He really doesn’t look the type of cat who would need to spend his resources at a brothel, in my opinion, but what do I know?

The stranger’s voice is neutral and calm, and something about it feels safe to me—but as I sit silently on the steps, I can’t hear his words clearly. But he is indeed making an inquiry about something. Virus, on the other hand, is a little closer, and I can make out his reply.

“The kitten in question isn’t ready for service at the moment. I suspect we will have him available within the next week but at the moment, he is not fit to see clients. He’s new and is having behavioral issues.”

It sounds like he's talking about me! How would the silver cat know to ask about me, I wonder? I strain my ears even further.

“… you can’t think a cat with a voice like that is a good fit for…”

It’s the silver cat speaking and I hear only part of his sentence.

“We’ve already invested in him. However, you’ll be glad to know that we do lend out our less well-behaved kittens from time to time. I invite you to check back with us in a week or so.”

Another response—this one sounds a little gruff—indicates the white cat is not satisfied with Virus’s answer.

“I may not understand what to do with his kind, but I can assure you he is unfit for company,” Virus replies.

I hear the silver cat insist on something else, but I don’t understand his words.

“Well, it’s how the law works in this city. He’s been bought and paid for by this house, and he’s been marked permanently. That’s not to say he won’t _ever_ be for sale, at the right price, but I highly recommend a sample before asking to purchase him outright. We also need to determine the best fit for him.”

Those words send a shiver down my back and spine. Did Virus really pay for me? Did he _purchase_ me? Is that what the exchange of money was—what I thought was the reimbursement of my fine? What if this house really _does_ legally own me? I can’t even begin to let the realization set in.

The silver cat says something else indicating his displeasure, but Virus murmurs something about giving him a good deal when the time is right, and then I hear the door close.

I’m still standing at the top of the staircase and I have not started my next task. In fact, my delay surely will be interpreted as disobedience if Virus were to check on me. I start to feel a little afraid, especially when I hear footsteps approaching the cellar door.

As quickly as I can, I scurry down the steps, though my ass is still burning, my thighs hurt, my ear is throbbing where it’s been pierced, and the brand—I can’t even _think_ about it. The cellar door opens before I reach the bottom of the steps, and Virus glares down at me. My tail hangs limp and my ears wilt.

“Um… I was just—” I try to make an excuse and am interrupted.

“You were listening at the door, weren’t you?” His voice is neutral as ever, but I can see the dark gleam in his eye.

“Um…” What can I say? I’m sure lying will only make it worse at this point, so I just stare at my feet.

“It seems he heard your song from the street. He’s most likely a Touga and was captivated by your voice. You probably didn’t see all of him, but he’s _terrifying_. You have _him_ to look forward to, I’m sure. Assuming you can get through your current assignment in one piece.”

My ears flatten. From what I saw and heard, that silver cat seemed much _less_ terrifying than anyone else at this place! Well, not including Aoba, I suppose.

“Oh yes. I think he will probably be one of your first paying customers. I’d be frightened if I were you. And if you _don’t_ learn to behave yourself, we will send you somewhere you _will_ learn your place.”

My fur bristles in spite of myself. I know better than to react to what this cat is saying. It would be better if I just ignored his words—but he is making me feel terrible about myself! Why?! It makes no sense. I don’t _want_ to be here. I don’t _want_ to learn whatever this is they are trying to teach. I know I’m a terrible fit and I will most likely fail and be used as a contract slave. So why even bother?

“Go on. You have to meet your next instructor. He’s been eager to meet you.” Virus dismisses me with a wave of his hands, staying at the top of the steps to make sure I obey him right away. I do—heading down the stairs. I’m relieved Virus isn’t coming, though I have no idea what might be waiting for me in the cellar. I cannot stop thinking of Verg’s threat—about being locked in a small box with snakes or insects.

The last time I was in the basement, I was blindfolded most of the time. This time, I make sure to look around—noting where the windows are, slightly amazed that I was able to feel any warmth from the dim rays of light that are spilling through the thick glass. It smells just as awful as ever. Fear, desperation, and loneliness cover the room like a mist.

My eyes slowly adjust to the dim light when I reach the bottom step and walk into the room.

“Hmph. It seems like you were delaying our inevitable meeting, kitten.”

I look up and there’s another devil standing before me. I haven’t met him before, but his hair is the most stunning thing about him. It’s bright and unnaturally red, long, thick and wavy, a little past his shoulders. He has striking clear blue eyes that are watching me like a hawk. He has a handsome face, but his expression is one of a calm annoyance, which makes me nervous.

Worse, I can see his long fangs on display even when his mouth is closed. His skin is darker than mine, and he’s dressed in ancient black, red, and gold garb from another time. He has pointed ears, like Verg’s, and black horns a little larger than Verg’s, gently curving like an antelope’s. His voice is low and clear, and he crosses his arms across his chest while observing me.

“I-i a-apologize,” I stammer. “I s-saw s-someone at the d-door…” I don’t continue, because I don’t want him to know I was considering escape.

“And you thought you’d make a run for it?” He approaches me quickly, and my fur bristles up fully. When he gets closer, heat pours from his body and his hands are hot when they touch my ears. I’m fully aware of my nudity—and I’m already uncomfortable about being naked, much less when I meet someone else (and a devil at that!) for the first time. “Kitten, you should learn sooner rather than later that sort of recklessness will cause you much more harm than good.”

I drop to my knees and lower my face. I’m ashamed that he knew what I was doing, and I’m terrified of him. Inwardly, I can feel my body cringing. The last devil I met raped me, after all.

“Ah. You don’t need to be so afraid of me. I’m not looking to train your body.”

I dare raise my face when my chin is softly brushed. Even through his gloves, his hands are burning hot.

“I’m going to help you get to the right headspace to stay here. I’m here to _help_ you.”

My ears move from their current flat-against-my-head position, and I dare to peek up at him for a moment, a spark of hope in my chest.

“Y-you won’t h-hurt me?” I barely manage a whisper.

“Well. I didn’t say that. I am here to help you learn and modify your behavior. And yes, pain may be part of the training.” His voice is low and calm, almost as though he is trying to soothe me.

Tears spring to my eyes when I hear that response, and I drop my gaze again, but I don’t speak.

“I can’t quite tell. You are aware of your position here? What it is we are trying to teach you? And also what is at stake? Look at me.”

He brushes his fingers along my jaw.

“My name is Razel. I’m the devil of wrath.”

Wrath? As in, _anger_? My ears twitch curiously. He seems nothing like I’d imagine a devil of wrath to look. I don’t sense anger from him at all. He seems very calm and patient, actually, very much in control.

“Before we begin, I’d like to explain a few things. It should make your training go more smoothly.” He takes a breath and drops my chin. I keep my eyes on his feet. He’s wearing sandals the likes of which I have never seen—expensive leather in a strange style that lace up beneath his black robe. “First, I’m sure you’re aware of your position. It seems Aoba has made that clear to you, and you’re aware that you were purchased to serve this house. However, you may not realize that it is up to _you_ as to where and how you will serve.”

The red demon paces the floor in front of me and I remain where I am, pulling my tail across my lap.

“Your safety and your very _life_ are at stake. Allow me to impress this upon you.”

My ears immediately flatten.

“M-my life?” I ask, meeting those clear blue eyes again.

“Indeed. The average life span of a slave rented out to the public in Ransen is twenty. Those who are owned by a house live twice that long, for the most part. Do you know why this is?”

I shake my head.

“The laws are designed to help slave owners, not the slaves. You will be punished on the outside much more harshly than what Virus and Trip will do to you here. Plus, you will be lent out without our supervision, and anything can happen to you. You will be punished—flogged publicly, branded painfully, whipped, your bones broken—if you disobey even _once_. Virus, on the other hand, knows how much he has paid for you, after all, and he wants you to earn that purchase price back and more. He will treat you as valuable merchandise. On the outside, you are _nothing_. _Worthless_. Less than a criminal.”

His words are terrifying me.

“Do you enjoy pain?”

I shake my head slowly.

“Flogging? Being whipped? Being on display, naked, for the free enjoyment of the people? Did you _enjoy_ how Verg treated you?”

My head shakes faster, desperately.

“N-no. _Please_ ,” I whisper.

“You haven’t lost the ability to serve here yet. You still have a chance to prove your worth. And so, I will tell you what to expect from this session. I require your _submission_. Not just the submission of your body but of your _mind_ as well. Pain is a powerful device for shaping compliance. If you do not submit your will to mine, you will experience physical pain.”

I swallow. I’m really nervous. Right away, my prior exhaustion and desire to rest and sleep have melted into fear and anxiety. Razel takes a seat on a wooden chair against the wall, and he relaxes into it.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” I do understand the threat—and he _terrifies_ me.

“Then let’s begin. Crawl a little closer to me.”

Staying on my knees, I crawl a little closer to the chair.

“ _Closer_. Within my reach.”

The fear rises in my chest making it difficult to breathe.

“Now close your eyes.” He sweeps his hand across my forehead and down my nose, making my lids heavy. “You are quite a fetching creature. If you would learn to submit here, you might easily do as well as Aoba.”

My heart is hammering in my chest, throbbing in my ears. My sense of smell gets even clearer: in addition to the awful, damp smell of the basement, I smell something that smells like ash or burned wood. I hadn’t noticed it till I shut my eyes. I detest fire—I fear it instinctually—and the smell makes me even more afraid.

A soft hiss makes me bristle my fur, and I squeeze my eyes shut and force myself to stay right where I am. Something hot coils around my leg—it feels like a snake.

A _snake_?!

A small panicked breath escapes when I reach out to grab it and try to fling it away from me—and I open my eyes. The moment my eyes open, my ear is grabbed and pulled. Thankfully, Razel grabbed the non-pierced one, but a cry of pain still spills from my lips.

“I said close your eyes.” His voice remains calm and even, but he does not release my ear until my eyes close. And I can’t do it—there’s a red snake coiling around my leg! “Relax. This is my alter. It’s part of your training. Close your eyes and submit your will to me.”

Taking a trembling, pained breath, I comply with his command and I let go of the snake. It continues winding its way around my body—up my leg, around my waist and then around to my abdomen and chest, making its way up to my neck. It leaves a trail of singeing heat in its wake, hissing softly, like the sound water makes when thrown against a hot surface.

“Please…” I beg softly.

“Quiet yourself. I’d like you to ignore the fear you are experiencing right now.”

I have no idea what he means, nor do I understand how I could comply with that command. I’m sharing a small, claustrophobic space with the devil of wrath, and a snake is coiling around my neck. It’s licking my face with a hot, slim tongue, and I flinch each time it touches me.

“Fear isn’t going to help you now. And I require you to be honest with your feelings. You need to realize them for what they are before you can submit yourself fully to this process.”

I take another shaky breath and try to relax.

Suddenly, my fur fluffs out in anger, and I reflexively open my eyes. Other feelings—anger, rage, fury—are building up quickly in my chest. I clench my fists. I have been _sold_. This house _owns_ me. I have _no_ power. I’m absolutely _helpless._

“That’s it. Listen to those feelings and bring them to the surface.”

My eyes burn with tears of anger and frustration. My absolute helpless position is more than obvious to me—clearer even than the fear I was feeling before, almost as if this devil is dragging it out of me. The rage I am feeling—indignation—pushes away even my exhaustion, and my body starts to shake. I struggle to remain still and keep my fists clenched on my lap, resisting the urge to fling the snake away from my body.

Then, I slowly start to feel that fear again—it creeps up gradually—as the snake tightens itself around my neck. It starts so slowly—the stifling, choking sensation—but soon, I am gasping for air.

I think about Razel’s words—the average lifespan of a slave in my position is only twenty. That’s only four more years. And my only other option is to stay here as a whore—and live till I’m forty. I doubt seriously that I will be alive for much longer if this snake doesn’t release me soon.

Unable to continue to submit quietly to what I assume is my death, I start struggling with the snake again. I draw claws and dig them into its body, and my eyes open wide as my mouth as I struggle to breathe. I happen to glance up at the devil causing this pain, and he looks perfectly calm. He’s deliberately trying to kill me—and anger floods me again. I have done nothing to him! What right does he have to treat me like this?!

Soon, however, I become aware of how helpless I am as my vision starts to get fuzzy. I am losing the ability to breathe at all, and all this gasping won’t get air into my lungs. I’m not even aware of it when my body slumps to the floor.

I’m only given a few moments of reprieve, however—at least I think it’s only been a few moments. I wake up slowly, my throat sore but able to breathe. I can’t move my body but I open my eyes, trying to gather my wits. I see the devil crouching in front of me.

“What do you want from me?” My voice comes out choked and dry. It hurts to speak.

“That small discomfort was necessary for me to gauge your intentions,” Razel says. “It seems you _still_ do not understand your position here or what is at stake. Do you wish to die?”

“N-no!” I hiss. “I don’t know what you want!”

“I told you exactly what I want: your submission.”

Submission? To _death_? Of course, I’d fight. I fought because I wanted to live!

“No. You fought because you are rebellious at heart. I can feel it. You have a strength of will that is resistant to everything else. I’m impressed. And I am a little sorry for what comes next, but you’ve earned it.”

“Wait—wait!” I protest, trying to raise my voice but being unable to. “What was I supposed to do?!”

“You were supposed to remain where you were with your eyes closed.”

“You tried to _kill_ me!”

“That is how my alter connects. Here, you are expected to submit willingly to anything your client desires. And I desired you to remain still and quiet. Yet you struggled. That’s deliberate disobedience and rebellion.”

I growl softly—or try to. It sounds raspy, like my voice.

“You’re saying I will see cats who want to _kill_ me?!”

“Perhaps. They won’t be allowed, of course, but they may still wish to asphyxiate you. Some cats get sexual pleasure from that sort of touch. It would serve you to learn to enjoy it.”

What?! That’s crazy!

“I see you are still unwilling. So. We will do this another way. Get on your feet.”

I don’t obey him, instead boldly returning his gaze. To my surprise, I see just a flash of warmth in the cool blue, like anger simmering beneath his cool exterior.

“We can do this the hard way, too.”

My body is suddenly grabbed, yanked to my feet, and I’m bent over the seat of the chair. My fur bristles and my tail is grabbed and yanked toward the ceiling. I yelp in pain—and then I feel his gloved hand smacking my ass—hard, quickly, no-nonsense—like a parent might punish a child, really—but _much_ harder. Every smack burns my skin and I can feel it heating up—and though I try not to cry out, I struggle against him and I cry out with every humiliating smack.

In particular, when his glove strikes the fresh brand, it sends a shivering pain soaring up and down my body. It makes the brand burn like when it was first done, and I scream in pain.

The spanking goes on for a long time—and I realize he is waiting for me to submit to this beating. At first, I refuse—my heart will not allow me to relax. I am struggling as I was with the snake, trying to get up from the chair and escape from him. My mind does not process the futility of my resistance. The skin on my ass, the brand, and the backs of my thighs are burning—radiating pain down my legs and into my tail.

Finally, I stop struggling—forcing my body to remain still. Pleas—pathetic, begging sounds—escape from my mouth along with my cries. It hurts so much I’m not even ashamed of my tears.

Eventually, the punishment stops.

“Don’t move.”

I obey his order, my skin still burning and sore, and I try to calm my tears. His hand strokes my ass gently—the leather glove feels a little sticky against my skin.

“If I have to repeat that lesson, it will be worse.”

As if to tell me exactly what he has in mind for me, he ghosts his leather-clad fingers over my entrance.

“You look quite pink and sore from Verg’s treatment. It would be painful to repeat that with a devil who does _not_ control pleasure.”

My body freezes and nausea rises in my throat.

“Please. Let me try again.”

He doesn’t reply for some minutes, instead just stroking my skin and repeating the threatening motion across my entrance, sending shivers of horror and fear up my spine. Finally, his low voice creeps into my ears.

“Stand up and get in.”

I look where he’s pointing, and there is a long, narrow wooden crate—and for the life of me, it looks like a coffin. I jerk up my chin to see if he’s being serious.

“Get in,” he repeats, approaching me. “Your choice is to obey me _now_ , or suffer through another more violent punishment and _then_ obey. But you _will_ obey me either way.”

“Please,” I whisper softly—but my feet are frozen to the ground, as though they have suddenly grown roots. I can’t do this! I can’t be left in that box! But I’m afraid to hesitate much longer, afraid of his threat—and so I do obey. I drag myself over to that crate and climb inside, lying down on my back. My backside is sore and I get several splinters in my ass and my thighs. I quickly try turning to the side and just manage to do so when the lid is placed over the top.

“Wait! _Please_!”

There are holes at the foot of the box, I can barely see but it’s just a thin ray of light that peeks in, lighting up my toes. I can’t move—it’s so small I can’t turn around or roll over, nor can I move my arms. And then, I hear a loud banging sound—loud enough to hurt my ears. It sounds like nails are being hammered into the lid of the box, truly trapping me here.

I panic for real now—struggling violently though I have no energy left in my body. Though I know air is coming in through the bottom of the box, I feel trapped and stifled.

“ _Please_!” I beg again and quickly, my hoarse voice fades to a whisper. I really _can’t_ do this anymore. I’m exhausted and discouraged—in complete despair. I should have bolted toward the front door and taken my chances with that silver-haired stranger. Even if he took advantage of me, I’m sure I wouldn’t suffer from _this_ kind of treatment.

“You’re just getting started,” Razel says. He’s finally finished hammering the box closed and I realize I’m in for a long night. I try to calm myself, but I _hate_ enclosed spaces since they left me in the dungeon overnight. The thought of being in this close of a container is much worse. My breath sounds loud, my heart is thumping violently—and I don’t know what to do.

“I give _up_!” I beg through the box. “Please—just rent me out to whoever—I can’t _do_ this!”

“If only it were that simple,” the devil replies. His voice sounds a little further away than it was. “And I disagree. You are, in fact, complying with my request, even as you struggle. It will be much easier for you once you submit your will.”

My ears twitch and I strain to hear his footsteps moving up the wooden staircase. I try my best to cry out and scream for help—but my voice is nearly non-existent, and my cries are ignored. I’m going to be left here!

I am scared and frustrated and angry, trying to bang my fists against the lid and side of the crate—anything I can reach. My nails are short and I scratch the wood, trying to claw my way out—and I continue scratching till my fingers are bloody. I’m exhausted, though. My fear is making this experience much worse.

“Please,” I whisper the word again and again, and I let my tears fall. I am sobbing in the box—and even with the small opening at the bottom, it quickly becomes stifling and impossible to breathe. That only serves to increase my panic.

_I can’t do this!_

But really—what choice do I have? Before, they kept me in the basement, chained up and at least now, I’m able to stretch out. My ear hurts, my brand is throbbing, but maybe I can rest.

Also, as the minutes pass, I realize with a burst of anger that I climbed into this box _myself_. I was not forced into it. I climbed in on my own free will. (At the moment, I don’t seem to make the connection that the alternative to obediently climbing into the box myself was Razel raping me and _then_ climbing into the box on my own. I’m so exhausted my rationality is fading.)

Feeling anger at myself—at my own weakness—the minutes drag on. My eyes are used to the dark now, but I can tell when dusk settles. The room gets darker, though it’s not as cold as it was the last time. My body heat is trapped in the box with me, so I have a little more insulation.

_What am I doing here?_

The same thoughts circle over and over in my head—thoughts that have been plaguing me—that I might have been better off dying of starvation than trying to live one more day by stealing food. If I could just go back and do that day differently…

My heart feels shattered. I try to calm my breathing. The thought that fills my mind next is an image of the silver cat. He looked normal—although there seemed to be something wrong with his voice. It was oddly flat and hard to read.

But I think he knocked on the door for _me_.

What did he want with me? Even if he stopped because he heard me sing, and he thinks I’m a Sanga, too—what would he _want_ with me? Surely, he’d get me out of here. But then I think about the circumstances around my first song. It spilled from my body, not my mouth when Verg was forcing himself on me. Is that kind of violence what it takes to make the song come out?

Would the silver cat do something like that to me? Is that my purpose in life now?

That leads me to an image of Aoba. He seemed like he enjoyed what I was doing to him—at least, he didn’t act like he was in pain. And really, I didn’t _do_ anything. I was restrained against the bed and he climbed on top of me, as though he wanted to touch me the way he did.

Does he _enjoy_ it? Does he enjoy _pain_?

I could _never_ be like that.

And the image of the silver cat flashes in my head again. This time, it sends a surprising burst of heat through my body—which is an odd change from the fear and dread I have been feeling about my future and my current situation. Am I _attracted_ to him? Why doesn't the thought of him touching me the way Verg touched me absolutely repulse me?

I’m bothered by these feelings and I push them out of my mind. Instead, I try to think about the song, trying to remember why and how I started to sing in the first place. If I could control my song, I might be worth something to someone. Perhaps… even worth enough to save from this place.

In Karou, I saw a Touga and Sanga pair once. The Sanga played a flute, and the power from his music spilled to his partner. It was a haunting memory—and watching how much more powerful the Touga was when the Sanga sang was spooky. They quickly overpowered their enemy. Am I really such a creature?

I don’t believe it.

But if I _was_ such a creature, would the silver cat rescue me from this place? Virus said I’m not for sale, but that doesn’t mean he’d never consider selling me. Would the silver cat _buy_ me?

Wait a minute. No. That’s never going to happen. I will have to work off my debt first. I don’t know how much Virus paid for me or how many clients I will have to see—who will choke me like Razel did or force themselves upon me like Verg did. And if I fail this test—which I’m pretty sure I already have—it may not even be _here_. Who's to say that anyone who rents me will feed me or treat me with any kind of dignity? And how long will I have to put up with that sort of treatment?

My body fills with discouragement and despair—now almost overwhelmingly overpowering my anger and fear. Fresh tears spill down my cheeks and I don’t bother to suppress my sob.

What makes this sort of punishment so painful is my own thoughts. I know I am making it worse for myself—making the entire experience worse. If I could only clear my mind—perhaps I could rest. I’m alone here, after all. Verg is not forcing himself upon me. The doctor isn’t groping me. Razel isn’t punishing me or choking me. Trip isn’t force-feeding me. So why not make the most of this—maybe if I thought about it as a little peace and quiet, maybe I could even sleep!

As ridiculous as it sounds, that’s what I try to do. I start to relax a little more—and again, that silver cat comes into my mind.

“How _interesting_!” A familiar deep voice startles me. I hadn’t heard anyone come down the steps—but I recognize the voice as Verg, and my fur bristles and my stomach revolts. “It seems you do have something like lust for pleasure in your compact little body.”

My ears flatten at his words. I wasn’t _lusting_ after the silver cat. I was just… I was just… what _was_ I doing? What was I _thinking_? I’m confused by my own thoughts.

Suddenly, I hear a soft hiss. At first, I don’t recognize the sound, but my body certainly remembers. It reacts with a sudden jerk—especially when something warm and slimy coils itself around my ankle.

“I bet you thought the holes at your feet were for _air_ ,” Verg chuckles softly.

It’s another snake! This one is different from Razel’s alter—at least that’s what he called it. This one is warm, not hot, and it’s smooth and slimy, more like a worm or an eel than a snake. It’s curling around my leg and creeping up my body.

“This is one of my alters. He’s _not_ the kind of snake you’d encounter in the wild.”

Those words don’t calm me at all. As the snake slowly creeps up my body, it leaves a wet, sticky slime in its wake, almost like a snail or a slug. It feels _disgusting_!

“After he makes himself comfortable, this little guy will search out your warmest parts and cozy up there.”

The snake reaches my abdomen, curling around the base of my tail and my hips, crawling up toward my neck. Gasping breaths escape my mouth when I try to shake him off, but my motion is so limited I can’t fight him. He pulls his head away from my throat for a moment and then strikes, sinking his fangs into the side of my neck. I scream out in terror and at the sharp pain—and then I feel something leaking into me from the wound.

It’s a liquid that flows into my veins, making me flush and sweat. It reminds me of the stuff that Verg pushed up inside my body just before he fucked me. I shed a desperate breath.

“Feeling good yet, kitten?”

Soon, the snake continues making its way around my neck, coiling up against my face, poking at my mouth. I press my lips closed and my body stiffens.

A shiver rushes us my spine when I feel the snake pushing its tail between my legs toward my back. It _can’t_ be doing what it feels like—but it is. It sneaks between my thighs, winds around the base of my tail, which is bristled and brushes my entrance gently. A loud terrified noise escapes my mouth. I know _exactly_ what it has in mind!

“Stop—don’t…!”

“Relax, kitten. It will be pleasurable for you if you just relax. He is only going where his master has already been.”

Gods! Please _help_ me!

Tears leak from my eyes—at first, from terror, then utter humiliation—and then pain at the moment that snake pushes inside my body. It burns since I am so sore from Verg's earlier treatment. It’s undulating slowly, worming its way inside me. The further it gets, the more it hurts. The wider I stretch, the more it feels like my inner organs are pushing up into my stomach. 

There is _nothing_ pleasurable about this, and I am soon screaming—my own voice echoes in my ears because of the small confined space. I can’t struggle or move enough to make any difference at all, and my claws start scratching freshly against the lid.

“You’re going to exhaust yourself, kitten. I suggest you relax. You’re going to need to make friends with him. I’ll be back to check on you tomorrow.”

To my horror, I hear Verg’s footsteps retreat up the stairs.

“Please—don’t leave me here! I will do _anything_ you like—I will do better— _please_!” I cry out desperately.

“Ah, I should warn you. He doesn’t like loud noise. You should keep a little quieter before he decides to muffle you all together.”

I notice that the head of the snake is moving again though its tail is still pushing inside me from below. Its body coils around my neck, cutting off my air slowly. It makes me panic, remembering how Razel’s alter choked me, and I can’t even lift my hands up to protect myself. Then, its head suddenly pushes into my mouth and down my throat. I’m _utterly_ disgusted and taken by surprise, angry that my mouth was open and screaming, now gagging helplessly. I’m vulnerable and unable to protect myself in any way.

Tears pour down my face, but my screams and sobs and cries have been muffled. Soon, I can’t catch my breath and between the suffocating touch and the pain in my lower body, I thankfully pass out.

I have no idea how long I lose consciousness. But I have a dream of swallowing a butterfly that turns into some sort of monster. I try to speak and no words come. Something is in my mouth. I still can’t get my hands up to pull whatever it is out of my mouth, and when I shift, I realize whatever is in my mouth is also inside me at the other end. I’m filled with utter disgust and humiliation at how my body is being treated—and then the snake shifts slightly. It’s like it deliberately presses against a spot on my inner walls, sending an uncomfortable chill into my back and shoulders.

A muffled sob spills from my lips, and this time it _isn’t_ just pain. The snake is actually fucking me. It squirms around inside me, its head in my throat making me choke and gag—and I struggle.

The more I struggle, the more it squirms, and it keeps deliberately brushing that spot inside my body. It feels like it’s looped its body around my cock as well, which starts to stiffen. I couldn’t imagine this treatment getting any worse—I would rather have the devil raping me than this snake doing what it is.

I get to a point of undeniable arousal, but my disgust prevents me from release, even as the snake moves specifically to arouse me. To my dismay, the pain slowly starts to melt into desire and lust. I will be _so_ ashamed if I come from this!

Weeping tears of horror and humiliation, I eventually lose my breath and again lose consciousness. I’m not sorry, either.

The entire length of the punishment is spent this way: I alternate between waking and passing out, and the snake moves around and inside my body. It pulls out of my mouth and my asshole and then goes back inside as the hours pass. I’m so utterly distressed and I don’t hear anyone checking on me.

Probably after the sixth time I wake from passing out, I become resigned to my fate. It can’t be healthy for me to keep losing air. But is this really what the rest of my life will be like? I can’t even imagine. However, my thoughts turn numb and blank and I refuse to think about it. I _can’t_.

Soon, that numbness increases and fills the rest of my body, sapping me of energy and thankfully, pain. I lose my will to fight, simply enduring the invasive treatment. I don’t actually climax since the snake is coiled so tightly around my cock, but I stop fighting it, just letting things happen.

After the gods know how many hours, I wake again to the sound of scraping. I assume the noise is from the nails being pulled from the lid. I am so numb and full of despair that I don’t move even an inch, even when the light spills in from outside.

My face is covered with tears, and the damn snake is still wrapped around and inside my body, constricting my airway and my very soul.

“Would you look at that? I think this did the trick for you. _Finally_.”

Virus is speaking to me—and his tone is soft and indulgent. He sounds… _pleased_.

He yanks at the snake, pulling it off of me. I gag and choke as he pulls it out of my mouth and I wince when it slips out of my ass. My brand isn’t bothering me—not until Virus touches it gently with his fingers. But I still do not move. I don’t even look at him.

“This is _exactly_ the mind space you need to be in if you want to succeed here,” he advises softly. “You are utterly captivating like this.”

He helps me sit up (I wince when I put any weight on my sore backside) and offers me a glass of water. Slime is in my mouth and seeps down my throat—a bitter taste—as well as dripping from between my legs, the base of my tail, my entire body wherever the snake has touched me. I close my eyes so I don’t have to look at myself or him and accept the water. It feels cool and welcome when it leaks down my throat, though I almost gag when I swallow.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and see if you passed the test.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Konoe's scavenger hunt may be over, but the night is long and full of terrors. He has a strange debut before the next step in his training.
> 
> This is a triggering chapter. Please note the updated tags, including non-con drug use and somnophilia, sex while incapacitated.

After the trauma in the basement, Virus helps me to the bathing chamber to clean up. He says I should be sure to wash well—and he helps with my hair. I have no energy and I ache all over. My brand is burning, my ass is sore, my ear is throbbing, my throat hurts.

I’m glad to get some freshly squeezed juice once I move to the spa. It feels almost exhilarating to soak in the pool, despite my sensitive areas. There must be chamomile in the water and possibly something like mint or catnip, so it’s very relaxing and soothing.

Exhaustion makes it hard for me to concentrate and eventually I end up floating around in the water.

“Kitten, my dear,” Virus says, stroking my ears. My new piercing stings when he touches it, but I don’t even have the energy to flinch. “I wish you would have done as well on your other tasks as you did on that last one.”

I’m not sure I understand what he means. It’s not as though I had any choice. I was locked in that coffin for over 24 hours, not even mentioning the snake. What could I do to resist? I am still almost numb, emotionally, but part of me has a strange sense of gratefulness toward the blonde cat with glasses who is helping me now.

I wonder if it’s deliberate—just for a moment. Virus hasn’t done anything to physically hurt me at this point. He is the only one who _hasn’t_ forced himself on me against my will, tortured me, hit me, or anything. He feeds me, tucks me in bed, takes care of my hygiene and health. Just thinking about anyone else here makes me feel sick. But Virus… he feels almost safe.

My brain understands that he is the reason I am suffering. He’s the one who purchased me, enslaved me, and is forcing me to work here. But because he hasn’t inflicted pain on me himself, my body is more comfortable around him. It’s both strange and off-putting, but I’m tired enough so I don’t worry too much about it.

“I met with the other instructors and unfortunately, the vote was unanimous.”

My ears flatten and I glance over my shoulder to meet his gaze. He doesn’t continue right away.

“Sir?” I prompt, my voice quiet and raspy.

“We don’t believe you are a good fit here, at least not now. At the moment, we think you are a risk to our patrons. As it happens, there is an opening for you on the outside. You start tomorrow.”

“Sir?!” My stomach roils and I feel like I’m going to be sick.

“Don’t worry. It’s not like we’re starting you off at the local brothel. I think you aren’t ready for that. They wouldn’t want you, either.”

“W-what… what will be expected of me?” 

“Well. For one, you’ll be working at an inn. The owner will be in charge of you and he will assign your tasks. He stopped by last night looking for help.”

An inn? That sounds much better than my life is right now—or any “prospects” I might have here in the future. I can clean, I’m not useless in the kitchen, and I can do basic math.

“Now, even if your main purpose is assisting with the menial tasks of the daily routine, you are still obliged to obey the owner. He probably plans to use you as a marketing attraction and also to meet his own needs. The mating season will be here soon, and it will be convenient to have a sweet looking kitten to serve his purpose, as well as the purposes and needs of his guests.”

“Serve them?”

“Why, yes, kitten. It’s a great way to dip your toes into the new profession we’ve decided for you. After a long hard day scrubbing floors, doing laundry, and washing dishes, you’re sure to be much more tired and much less resistant to his and his guests’ affections.”

Wait—does he mean—?

The horror is evident on my face, apparently, because Virus leans down and touches my cheek.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. You won’t be going in without _any_ experience. We plan to have a one-night special preview and debut for you. Here and now.”

“D-debut?” I echo the word, almost unable to believe my ears!

“Yes. We will display you in the parlor and make you available to customers with certain… preferences.”

“I c-can’t!” I cry out, tears literally spilling down my cheeks. “I’m _so_ tired—I didn’t sleep well, and I hurt! I couldn’t possibly! I _refuse_!”

“Ah, there, there. We will _assist_ you. We know you are a resistant little kitten, so we will help you please the clientele. I’ll have Dr. Arbitro come in. First, please dry off and get dressed. I’ve brought you something for the occasion.” He motions to some clothes he's placed on the chair.

“No!” I dig my heels in, but my voice sounds exhausted. “ _Please_!”

“Would you like Dr. Arbitro to help you dress? If you aren’t out of the water and dressed by the time I return, that is exactly what will happen. Have no worries. We always protect our customers.”

Virus leaves the room—and I’m still floating listlessly in the tub. Now, I have to decide whether to obey—and get dressed, preparing myself for further abuse and (most likely) rape by strangers—or to stay right where I am and risk the horrible doctor assisting me. He branded me and pierced my ears—among other humiliating things yesterday and honestly, having him touch me more than absolutely necessary _repulses_ me. So I choose the lesser of two evils and climb out of the water, my legs trembling.

Using a towel, I dry myself off, shaking the water from my fur. On the chair, I see a small pile of clothes—something that looks like a very fine red silk robe. It has a subtle pattern of gold woven throughout the thread. But there is _nothing_ else. I feel absolutely ill.

Not bothering to suppress a small hopeless sob, I pull the robe on my shoulders. The fabric feels nice on my skin. I’ve been nude for a longer time than I ever can remember being before, so having clothing touch my skin feels like a luxury. It doesn’t even hurt my brand (very much). But the robe is too long and I can’t tie it without it dragging on the floor.

I am still struggling with the sash when the door opens, and Virus and Dr. Arbitro return.

“Oh, it suits him perfectly!” His sing-song tone makes the nausea in my stomach rise to my throat. 

“Don’t worry, kitten. We will help you adjust as soon as we have you appropriately arranged,” Virus assures me. I’m not comforted and I continue struggling with the robe.

Arbitro is carrying his bag and he pulls out a small case, laying it out on a bench. It seems obvious that he is showing me the contents and when I see them, I start to panic. It looks like a syringe and drugs. What _is_ this?

“No…”

“My dear, we can’t have you hurting our best customers. And don’t worry. This is only temporary.”

I watch the doctor draw up some clear medication in the syringe and he tilts his head to the side expectantly. Virus crosses his arms and glares at me.

“We will punish you if you resist. This is for _your_ benefit. If we gave you to a client and you hurt him, that would be grounds for a public flogging. Is _that_ what you want?”

A loud sob escapes my mouth. I don’t know what to do.

“ _Please_ —there has to be something else…”

“Honey, I’ve been doing this for a long time. Come over here, please.” Arbitro gives me a quick nod.

When I hesitate, Virus speaks again.

“Kitten, if I have to assist you, you will be very sorry. Didn’t that brand hurt when Razel punished you?”

My ears flatten. I wipe my eyes and I obey. I slowly approach the bench.

“You don’t need to sit down just yet. Just turn around, kitten.” The doctor doesn’t wait for me to obey. He physically turns my body around and bends me over the bench. The fabric of the robe is yanked up, and my tail bristles. “Oh, your cute little tail goes _through_ the slit, silly. I’ll help you with it in a moment. Now, just relax.”

The needle stick isn’t very painful—compared to whatever he injects. That burns and stings—and now both my cheeks are sore. My robe is quickly lowered and then adjusted and tied—and the room starts to spin almost immediately. Virus helps lower me to the bench. I’m exhausted—and my body becomes absolutely paralyzed. Even my sobs and tears stop as I’m lowered to the bench.

“There. Isn’t that better?”

I can still feel _everything_ —I’m not going to sleep. I just can’t move and my eyes are heavy. But I can see and hear and sense everything around me. Thankfully, I have a sort of soft relaxing feeling flowing through my body at the moment as well, so I don’t utterly panic at being chemically restrained. That’s what this feels like—being chained up and trapped, only my body is free.

One last soft meow escapes my mouth.

“Now. You will be able to see your guests if you like. But some of our clients prefer our students asleep, so I suggest you close your eyes. It may be less traumatic for you as well. And you will be perfectly safe—since you won’t be able to resist.”

Despite my current relaxed state, a little panic starts to raise its head. I was expecting the medication would knock me unconscious or put me to sleep. The fact that I am fully aware of what is going on and am helpless to escape frightens me even more than _not_ knowing or being aware. But my breath doesn’t quicken, though I can hear my heart pounding in my ears.

“He should be good to go,” the doctor says. Virus nods and picks me up.

I can’t turn my head or see where I am going since my face is pressed right up against Virus’s chest. I can tell I am bring brought downstairs and into a room—decorated in garish red. The dark hardwood floors are scattered with large, plush red carpets. This seems to be a parlor or sitting room of some kind, with lots of burgundy velvet furniture scattered about and a bar in the corner. I am placed on a chaise, curled on my side, facing the door.

Virus arranges my arms so they are beneath my head and in front of my chin, curled up as though I'm asleep. I can’t draw my claws or twitch my ears or move my tail. I feel utterly stifled and trapped. Then, he brings my tail toward the front of my body, pulling it through the slit of the robe and ruffling up my fur. He bends my legs slightly, exposing my top leg by sliding the silk up to my thigh. I can definitely feel a breeze in the room through the open door, and that leads me to believe that my chest and lower body must be exposed and open to view at some angle.

I try to speak—try to plead—try to beg for mercy, forgiveness, anything to get me out of this, and no words will come.

“I can see you’re trying to speak, kitten. It feels like your tongue is too large for your mouth, doesn’t it?” Virus runs his claws through my hair and pulls some over my shoulder. “You look lovely. And between us, I think you’ll find this much more enjoyable when you resign yourself to the fact that you literally _cannot_ resist. There’s a good boy.”

He leaves me alone in the room, but the door is open. The room is close to the front door, I believe, too, since I hear someone knocking. I cannot _believe_ this is happening! I can’t even cry—it feels like I am unable to wake up from a horrible nightmare.

“Welcome,” I hear Virus at the door. “Please come in and make yourselves comfortable. Meet our latest addition in the parlor while I serve you something to drink.”

Two cats enter—one is large and a little scruffy looking, a scar on his right cheek, scruffy short gray fur and medium-length gray hair. The other one is a spotted cat—black and white fur with black hair. Neither is dressed as though they have a lot of money, but I notice both are carrying weapons.

“Ah. Please leave your weapons at the door. This is a house of pleasure, after all.”

Virus offers the guests a glass of champagne.

“We have our regular offerings tonight, of course, and they are open to whatever you desire. This one is our newest addition. This is his first night, in fact.”

“Ah, look. He’s adorable!” The spotted cat says. “Where did you find one so small?”

Virus smiles and nods, but doesn’t answer the question.

“Is he available?” The gray cat asks. “He seems very mellow.”

“He is, but tonight, he is still in training. If your preference is for a sleeping prince, he will be perfect for you.”

“I see. He’s been drugged?” The gray cat comes a little closer to me. If I were able, I'd flinch away from him. He’s frightening and he smells unpleasant. There’s a metallic scent to him that I find repulsive—like a metal coin, perhaps—but I can’t quite place it. I can’t do anything except squeeze my eyes closed. I can’t even change my facial expression.

“He has. Is that to your liking?”

“Especially when they are so young and helpless. I’ll take him.”

“Wonderful. Pay the fee afterward. The room is yours. And you, sir, I will find you a perfect fit as well.”

The nausea I was feeling has been dampened by the medication, but I can’t move or do anything to protect myself. When the door closes, I’m left alone with this frightening cat.

“Now. You must be quite new to this if you have been drugged your very first evening, kitten,” he purrs softly, sitting next to me on the chaise. He has to move me over a little to fit. “I wonder what we might do to make you a little more comfortable…”

I feel like I can’t breathe—but my breath is still coming naturally and slowly. I feel some tears form on the surface of my eyes, but they don’t spill. I close my eyes for a moment, trying to figure out my options. I can’t see a single one. I will just have to take whatever is coming to me. I am _terribly_ sorry I didn’t comply with Virus’s little scavenger hunt, though. I wish I could go back and do it again—and the thought that I am wishing that now _terrifies_ me.

While my eyes are closed, I feel the sash pulled from my waist, and my robe reveals the rest of my nude body. I refuse to watch! I still cannot believe this is happening to me. I’d almost rather be back in that coffin than put up with this!

“Hmm,” the stranger says. “Now, I know you’re new, but don’t worry so much. I like my partners to feel pleasure, too. Daddy will take good care of you, little kitten.”

His hands skate from the tips of my ears down my throat to my chest. He pinches my nipples and then runs his claws softly through the fur below my belly. It’s a sensitive and ticklish feeling—the light touching—but it’s _horrible_. I want to flinch away, protect myself, escape—and I can do _nothing_. My eyes are open and watching him—his face is filled with lust. In fact… I feel something pressing on my chest—figuratively speaking—and it almost feels like his emotions—lust, the desire to control, the desire to dominate—are seeping through my skin.

After leaving Karou, I realize I sometimes experience the emotions of others if I don’t keep my guard up. Being this relaxed makes me unable to steel myself and protect myself from anything. It makes me even more vulnerable. I close my eyes quickly and feel a few tears slip down my cheeks.

“Tears? You really must be new.”

His hands move lower and toy casually with my dick. I am not aroused—at _all_ —and I don’t wish to be. The thought of a stranger—especially _this_ stranger—touching me is revolting and disgusting. But the longer he plays with me—wrapping his fingers around me, stroking my balls, gently stroking my fur—the more my body starts to respond.

“Cute. You’re absolutely adorable.” His voice is getting huskier and needier, and I am terrified. “Now, why don’t you just close your eyes?”

He leans down and kisses my lips—and I can’t even press my lips together. He easily invades my mouth with his tongue—and that’s when I place the metallic smell. It’s _blood_. He smells like blood, and he is touching me in this weird sexual way and I _hate_ it! He keeps playing with my cock until I’m mostly hard, and he licks my throat. Because I can’t lower my chin, it’s as if I’m being forced to submit to him. I can’t cry out, I can’t meow or protest, and I certainly can’t fight him off.

This is _horrifying_. I would scream out loud and scratch his eyes out if I could move. I feel completely humiliated—and all I can do is keep my eyes closed. My body is aroused, but my mind is disgusted. Gods—is he actually _trying_ to make me come? Like Verg did?

Although, he isn’t hurting me. So I should be thankful for that.

When that thought goes through my head, I am even more horrified. _Thankful?_ For _this_ sort of treatment?! How is this my life now?! Will I be forced to do this for the rest of my life? I can’t bear the thought!

The gray cat’s breath is heating up, and he is still talking to me in a soft voice as though soothing me. As if _anything_ he is saying about my body, how responsive and obedient I am, how beautiful I am, would actually make me feel at _all_ better about this. I want to grind my teeth. I want to bite him. And I can’t even move!

And damn it, my dick is now fully erect. _Fuck_!

“That’s perfect. Now… let’s see if you _feel_ as good as you look.”

My body is roughly pulled down the length of the chaise to the foot, and I am turned over. My right arm is squashed uncomfortably beneath my body and my left falls to the floor. My fingers are touching the plush rug beneath me, and my head is turned to the side. My legs are pulled off the side of the chaise—and with horror, I know exactly what is coming next.

The silk robe is pushed all the way up my back, and he spreads my legs a little. His other hand pulls up on my tail—hard—and the sudden violent treatment scares me. I can’t resist, of course. I can’t fight back. I can’t do anything! But at least before he was treating me gently. The rough movements are frightening, and my stomach sinks when I hear the rustling of fabric.

“Ah, so you have already been used roughly today, have you?” He's saying the words as he spreads my cheeks. I'm so humiliated!

The thought of having anything else inside me is almost too much—but again, I can’t do anything about it. I can’t even decide to relax on my own!

He doesn’t prepare me at all—entering me a single thrust. A breath is expelled roughly from my lungs and I close my eyes against the pain. It feels like my insides are an open wound, and he isn’t slow or gentle.

There’s no reason to be rough with me. I can’t fight him off. I’m as relaxed as I can be. I’m compliant and obedient—and due to that medication, I'm fucking paralyzed! And still, this cat who is close to twice my size is fucking me as roughly as he can. My body jolts around against the chaise, and I can feel the velvet rubbing against my stomach and my cheek, again and again, surely leaving me with rug burn.

But I can’t even cry out. Instead, all I hear are the disgusting wet noises from our bodies connecting—or rather, his large body connecting with mine—and his pleasured gasps, moans and “sweet-talking.”

“You’re so tight!”

...

“Such a fresh little piece of meat.”

...

“You feel even better than I thought you would.”

...

“I wonder what it’d be like if you could try to resist a little—or make a little noise. You look like you have a sweet voice.”

It feels like it goes on forever—but he is just a cat, not the devil of pleasure. So eventually, he comes. He doesn’t release inside me, either. Instead, he pulls out at the last minute, his cum dripping down against my bare buttocks, lower back, and tail. He lets out a deep, satisfied moan and drops down hard against my back.

It hurts—sending little jolts of pain into my arms and legs. Didn’t Verg hurt my back like this earlier? My neck? It’s all starting to blur together.

My face is wet with tears, but I can’t sob or cry. And I am left just like this as he gets dressed. Then he pets my ears and leaves the room. It sounds like he has left the door open—leaving me naked and on display and feeling totally disgusting.

There’s a short conversation between Virus and the stranger, and then I hear the front door closing again.

“Trip, would you clean him up?” Virus asks.

Trip’s heavy footsteps traipse into the room. I hear him running water into a container and then he brings it over to where I am.

“Konoe, you’d probably have a little more fun if you were more compliant. Aoba enjoys this kind of thing. It’s not as much fun if you can’t participate, after all. Plus, you’re left in such a mess. It’s so troublesome to have to clean you up.”

He cleans me up and rearranges me on the chaise again, and then he leaves. He’s wiped my tears as well, but I can’t help cringing when the front door is opened again, and Virus leads the next cat into the room.

He can’t be serious! But he is. This next customer wants to serve me orally—and he fondles my ass with his hands while I’m splayed out on the chaise on my back. Being touched like this is supposed to feel good, isn’t it? I’m not being violently raped as before. But somehow, being forced to accept an unwanted blowjob from a stranger while not being able to move is almost worse than being fucked. I _hate_ not being in control of my body.

When I come—and I do come—my breath quickens a little and a very soft mewling sound escapes my lips. The cat sucking me off looks very pleased, but I close my eyes and pretend to be asleep.

Virus sees to my care this time, and yet _another_ cat is ushered in. At this point, I feel like I would rather die than be fucked one more time. This cat fucks me roughly without any foreplay, also bent over the chaise as before, so at least it's quick—and he is frustrated when I don’t come. At least my dick gets hard again, thankfully. But it’s not like I have any control either way.

When Trip comes in to clean me up again, I want to scream. Because I’m left in the room, I know another cat will be paying me a visit, and I can’t take this anymore. I do the only thing I can do—I try to escape my body by diving deep into my thoughts. I imagine I can escape my physical form when I close my eyes—and all I feel are strangers groping me and fucking me.

One cat comes in after the next and I lose track of how many clients I serve. I can’t believe it when the doctor and Trip enter the room. Maybe that means the night is over? I’m almost happy to see them.

“You’re certainly a mess, aren’t you? I’m sure this did you some good, psychologically. You need it to sink in—that you are no longer your own. You belong to this house now. You _will_ obey. If you are unable, we will _force_ you to obey,” the doctor says. “We can let him clean up more thoroughly tomorrow morning. For now, he should probably get some rest.”

I’m still lying on my stomach, and my robe is lifted. I’m given another injection, much to my surprise. Trip carries me upstairs and to the room I stayed in that first night. I’m glad to be alone. He puts me in bed and strips off the robe. I’m thankful to be in a real bed—but Trip doesn’t leave right away.

“It will still be about ten minutes before that second injection reverses the paralysis. So… while you’re _here_ …”

He pushes me onto my side and enters me in a single thrust. I suddenly realize my voice is back when I cry out loud. I’ve been used again and again, and it still hurts every time. Trip isn’t interested in my pleasure at all, and that's _fine_. I don't _want_ it. He is simply fucking into my body hard and fast, holding my hips still so I can’t move. There’s nothing magical about any of this. Nothing really felt good—and I _prefer_ it that way. In some ways, the blowjob was the worst part, because not only was sex forced upon me, a climax was forced on me as well.

At least Trip is quick about it. He comes inside me and leaves me in bed. I’m naked—and I feel his leavings dripping down out my ass and down my thighs, almost like he is caressing me even after he is finished with me.

“Sleep, kitten,” he whispers—and oddly, he licks my ears almost tenderly. It's repulsive.

I’m filled with relief when he closes the door and I hear the lock click. I _want_ to be locked in this room! My voice is now entirely back to normal, and I can’t hold back my tears and sobs. I end up crying myself to sleep. After this evening, I’m not sure if I’m more frightened of being sent out to the inn or relieved to be getting out of here!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next morning, Konoe wakes sore and tired, but he doesn't have a choice in what's happening next. He meets his new temporary master and starts work at the inn.
> 
> Triggers: Non-con touching, intimidation, medical stuff.

The night passes in the blink of an eye and to my dismay, Dr. Arbitro is the one who wakes me.

“Come, kitten. We need to prepare you for service.”

He pulls me out of bed—and I can barely walk. My asshole burns, between my thighs aches, and my hips hurt when I even move.

“Ah. Yes. You’ll be sore. Let me help you with that.”

I don’t even see the needle coming, but it’s jabbed into my butt sooner than I can process.

“Please—no more!” I am bordering on tears already, afraid of what the doctor has already done to me and what else he might do. I don't want any more of the medication he gave me yesterday! That was terrifying.

“Don’t worry. This will help you with the pain. Just give it a moment to work. You may get a euphoric feeling as well, but it shouldn’t make you too sleepy. You’ll just have to pay close attention to any instructions or you will be punished in your new position.”

I do feel lightheaded and pleasant—a nice buzzing sensation in my body that masks some of my body aches. I’m able to follow the doctor into the bathing chamber, which stands empty except for the two of us.

“You’re a disaster. Wash up as best you can. I’ll be checking how clean you are before you leave.”

That threat sends an unpleasant shiver down my spine, so I do my best. I realize there is some dried blood in between my cheeks and thighs—and a sense of disgust and horror floods my body almost instantly. But I bite the inside of my cheek and clean myself up.

Arbitro barks at me to hurry and finish up and I obey, fearing any sort of punishment.

“Up on the table,” he orders while I am still drying off with a towel. “Leave the towel.”

After I lie down on my back, he inspects me from the tips of my ears (cleaning the new piercing which hurts much less today) to my toes—spending extra time in my genital area. I can’t tell if this is an examination or meant to humiliate me. I close my eyes and keep my lips pressed together.

“Turn over.”

I obey, letting out a soft sob.

“Oh, nonsense. I haven’t done anything to hurt you. You have nothing to fear.” As if to remind me of exactly what he has already done, he covers my brand with some sort of ointment, making it light up with pain. “You may want to wear loose clothing for a few days. We have your new uniform here and it should suit you fine. Skip the underwear.”

As if that isn’t bad enough, Arbitro spread my ass cheeks apart and pokes around just below my tail. While the medication I was given has helped me function, it doesn’t prepare me for the pain that follows with his inspection. I cry out loud, earning myself a sharp spank.

“Hush up. You’re fine. No permanent damage. You did well enough cleaning. Now get dressed.”

I’m relieved to get dressed—and relieved to see the uniform is a gray yukata with black trim and a red sash. I’d feel much less exposed with underwear, but I’m not provided with any. At least the robe covers me completely.

I’ve never worn a yukata—and this feels large on me. After watching me struggle with it for a moment, Arbitro sighs loudly and impatiently folds it up around my body and ties the obi as tight as possible. I’m given a pair of wooden sandals and while it’s chilly outside already with the approaching winter, I’m thankful to have something on my body and my feet.

“Final touches.” He pulls a brush through my hair and my fur—both are still slightly damp—and then hurries me out the door. “You’ll do. Now go, go, go.”

I’m rushed downstairs into the same parlor I was in last night. The red color of the room fills me with disgust and I try my best to push away the horrible memories. I don’t want to enter the room when the door is opened, but Arbitro pushes me inside without waiting for my consent or permission.

“He will be here soon. Get down on your knees and submit to every command.”

I obey quickly, frightened out of my wits. I lower my ass to my thighs, and it hurts—and so I raise up to my knees again.

“Get down!” The doctor shouts at me, and I flatten my ears and bristle my fur, but I obey right away, trying to ignore the pain. My breath is frightened, coming in small shallow pants, and all I can think about is what is going to happen to me next!

“Now, if you disobey before you leave this house, your temporary master will be permitted and encouraged to bring you to the square for public punishment. So I suggest you stay on your best behavior. And cast your gaze down to your lap! That insolent look of yours is too much!”

He leaves me in the room, closing the door behind me. I can still smell sex from last night, and it makes me feel sick. What if my temporary master wants to sample me before leaving? I am frightened to tears, and I try my best to push them back and hold them in. My chest won’t stop heaving. When the door opens next, my body jerks in fear but I manage to keep my eyes glued to the ground.

“Here you are, sir. I think you will find he will do good work. And you’re just the master he requires. Hard physical labor will certainly do him wonders—and he will be willing and compliant for you this evening with exhaustion.”

A pair of heavy-sounding feet follow Virus into the room and stand in front of me. He has large feet—my new master—and he’s wearing black boots. I keep my eyes on the floor, struggling to remain calm.

“He’s a little bitty thing, isn’t he?” His voice is deep and rumbles inside my chest—almost like a purr. It’s a pleasant voice and he doesn’t sound cruel, but I’m still frightened.

“Don’t let that dissuade you. Look at him,” Virus insists.

My chin is touched gently—a large hand, probably as large as Verg’s, I think—tipping my face up to meet his gaze. Before me is a large cat—larger than any I have served so far and even larger than Trip. Both tall and broad, the owner of the inn is muscular and shows off his body with a shirt that hangs open. He has amber eyes, black hair, a beard, and strangely rounded ears covered in orange and black stripes. His tail is long, too, and waves behind him slowly.

He examines my face as surely as I am looking at him, and I quickly lower my gaze in what I hope is a humble gesture. My face is turned right and left. He runs his other hand through the fur on my ears.

“Ooh. So soft. Can you work?”

“S-sir?” I whisper.

“Household chores, dishes, laundry, food service, and the like.”

“Y-yes, sir.”

“He’s quite muscular despite his small stature. Stand up for me, kitten.”

I realize once I stand up that the tiger is probably middle-aged, probably close to 35 or 40, I’d guess. Trying my best not to flinch or complain, Virus twirls his fingers at me, suggesting I turn around. I lower my gaze and obey.

“An adorable little shape, too. And this tail—how unique,” the tiger says, running his claws through the tip of my tail. It's so intrusive! “Ah, and surprisingly plush even though you have short fur.”

I shiver a little being touched so intimately.

“I should warn you he is a new addition here. That is why he is so affordable. If you have any issues, you know all about the actions you can take,” Virus says.

“I’m sure he won’t give me any trouble, will you, kitten?” My ears are stroked again and they twitch. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“K-konoe.”

“Konoe, I’m Bardo. And yes, I think you will do just fine.”

Virus has Bardo sign a few forms and I don’t miss a small bag of coins being pressed into Virus’s hands, either. A sense of despair floods me as I watch myself being rented out like a piece of property. I _hate_ this!

“Thank you very much for your business. Please let us know if there is anything we can do to make his service more obliging.”

“Thank you. Now. Let’s go, kitten. We have a lot of work to do.”

Taking my arm, he leads me outside. I struggle to keep up with the larger cat’s stride once we get out into the street. I’m thankful for Arbitro’s medication but even with it on board, every step I take is _excruciating_. It seems to be getting better, though, and I hope I will be better off doing honest hard labor than whatever I was made to do last night. We take a back road away from the busy streets of Ransen and come upon an older but well-maintained inn.

“Come in,” he says, ushering me inside.

The atmosphere of the place is warm and welcoming—and I can smell something cooking in the kitchen.

“We have a lot to do this morning, so the tour will have to wait. I need your assistance in bringing breakfast to our guests. We have a full house for the next few days.”

I follow him into the kitchen, feeling a little bewildered.

“You are asking me to carry trays of food to the guest rooms?” I can’t believe that is all I’m wanted for.

“Yes, that is your first task. Gen, are they ready to go?”

There’s another cat, slightly smaller, blond hair and blue eyes, probably about Bardo’s age.

“This is Konoe. Konoe, Gen. He assists me with food prep from time to time.”

I nod slightly and bow my face in retrospect. I am the _slave_ here, I realize a little late.

“Go on. Don’t let it get cold. Just knock before you enter. If there’s no answer, leave the tray outside the door.”

“Yes, sir.”

I can carry two trays at a time, and Bardo also brings a few upstairs. I knock on the first bedroom door, unsure if I will find one or two cats in the room. I’m answered right away and the guest opens the door.

“Your breakfast, sir.”

“Ah, looks delicious. Thank you.” I keep my gaze pointed down, but I don’t miss the look the guest give me. “I didn’t see you here last night.”

“Um, no, sir. I was brought in, um, temporarily.”

“Hmm.”

Again and again, I take care of the rooms on the right side of the hallway, and Bardo does the left. I don’t miss the fact that many guests eye me curiously, and neither do I miss the innkeeper feeling me up, pinching my ass, grabbing my tail, brushing his hands through my ears, every chance he gets on the way back downstairs. It’s as though he is reminding me that this—serving food—will _not_ be my only job. I’m a little discouraged when there is only one room left at the end of the hall left to serve. Part of me is afraid of my next task. Downstairs, Bardo says, “Go ahead. I should warn you, that guest is a little grumpy. He hasn’t been out of his room since he arrived yesterday.”

Heading back upstairs, I can’t let it dissuade me. I knock on the door and there is no answer. I’m not sure what to do, so I knock again.

“Sir? I have your breakfast,” I speak softly against the door.

“Go away,” comes a low voice from in the room. I’m a little taken aback—but if I didn’t wish to be disturbed and a hotel employee entered anyway, I’d be annoyed, so I leave the tray outside the door.

“Sir, I’m leaving the tray just outside the door.”

“Don’t need it,” comes the voice through the door. I leave it anyway and head back downstairs.

Next, Bardo has me wash the dishes in the kitchen. I’ve never seen so many dishes—though it makes sense if he’s serving so many guests. I work in warm soapy water, and Bardo comes in occasionally, stroking my fur and my hair. He grabs my ass a few times as well. Again, I’m reminded that household chores aren’t probably the _only_ thing that will be expected of me here.

It takes nearly an hour and half to finish cleaning up the kitchen. I scrub the counters and floors when I’m done—and I know I’ll have to do it again after dinner. I’m exhausted and Bardo comes in once I’ve finished.

“All right, kitten. Go on upstairs and collect the breakfast dishes. Those need to be washed as well.”

I suppress a small discouraged sigh—but I remind myself that this is surely better than what was done to me last night. Surely.

The guest in the first room hasn’t left his tray outside the door, so I knock lightly.

“Sorry to disturb you. I’m just collecting breakfast dishes.”

“Come in,” says the voice behind the door. It’s the first cat I saw and he is resting on the bed. “Care to stay a little while?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. We are very busy this morning,” I start, but he gets up from the bed as I walk over to the table, and he closes the door behind me. My ears flatten and fear shoots through my chest. Everything that was done to me last night flashes in my mind in an instant, and I have to struggle to keep my panic in check.

“Surely you have a little time to spare for me?” The cat purrs softly. I recognize his intention right away—thanks in part to my treatment yesterday.

“Sir, I’m sorry, I have too much to do—”

“But you’re on loan here, aren’t you? Aren’t you here to satisfy the guest’s needs?”

Certainly not _that_ need, I think but don’t say. Instead, I pick up the tray and move toward the door.

“Please, excuse me—”

“I don’t think so, kitten. You’ve come across me at nearly the right time, haven’t you?”

“Sir, we are very busy this morning and I will be missed if I don't hurry,” I repeat. “I’m sure you understand.”

The cat sighs, crossing his arms in front of his chest. I don’t make eye contact and keep my eyes on his feet. He moves out of my way when I head toward the door carrying the tray. I tilt my head and leave quickly.

My breath is nervous and fast by the time I reach the hallway. I take a moment to calm myself down before I knock at the next door. I collect all the dishes and make several trips back down the stairs, dropping them off.

I notice that the guest at the end of the hall hasn’t touched his tray, and Bardo walks into the kitchen as I carry it in.

“That’s the last room? End of the hall?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Huh. He didn’t touch his food. He didn’t last night either. You need to make sure he eats tonight. After you finish these dishes, I’d like you to knock and check on him. He may be ill.”

I nod and get to work on the dishes. It takes me almost an hour to finish.

“Make some tea and bring it up to the guest who didn’t eat anything,” Bardo says.

“Yes, sir.”

I do as I am asked, carrying a small pot of tea and a cup along with a few biscuits and head back up the stairs. My ass is already sore, and now my muscles are exhausted from the stairs. At least I’ll get in good shape while I’m here, I think. Much better than being paralyzed, I suppose.

I knock at the door at the end of the hall, and there is no response.

“Sir? Pardon my interruption, but I brought you some tea—”

“Go away,” the low voice barks at me from behind the door. I’m sure if I didn’t want to be disturbed, I would be irritated at such persistent service.

“Um, I’ll just leave it here.” I set the tray down, but I don't leave right away. I'm a little worried about this guest. What if he's sick and needs help? Quietly, I press my ear against the door.

“What?!” The cat snaps.

I’m startled—since the door is closed—and I’m sure I wouldn’t be able to tell if someone was waiting outside the door. How could even he tell I was there?

“I... I’m sorry,” I say quickly. “I’m just wondering if you need anything.”

“Go away.”

He sounds more tired than angry at this point but of course, I’m going to comply with his demand.

When I go back downstairs, Bardo is waiting there and pushes a large basket into my hands.

“Laundry next.”

I nod, keeping my eyes down and head to the backyard of the inn. I wash the sheets and towels in a large tub of soapy water—it’s a lot of work. I can’t imagine doing this every day—so much laundry! But again, I remind myself of the little scavenger hunt Virus set up for me and how much better this is, even as my hands get chapped.

After I’ve finished hanging the sheets on the line to dry in the afternoon sun, I carry the basket back inside. Bardo meets me at the back door, holding a tray. It’s the tea I left for the guest at the end of the hall. It hasn’t been touched. I glance up at the old cat’s face and he looks displeased. Certainly, he can’t blame me for the guest not eating his food!

“What’s this?” Bardo asks. “I told you to make sure he was all right. Get back upstairs! That guest needs to eat or drink something.”

“Um, sir, he told me in no uncertain terms to go away. I don’t think he wishes to be disturbed. Sir.”

“And who do you think you work for here? Get back up there! He may require additional help. I’m sure he won’t hurt you. Go on and see if he needs a doctor or something.” Bardo pats my ass and tail in that overly friendly way that hurries me back up the stairs.

I scurry down to the end of the hall and stand outside the door for a few moments before knocking again.

“Please, sir. Let me bring you something to eat or drink.”

“Go away.” He sounds even more frightening than he did earlier.

“But—”

“I said, _go away_. Leave.”

Now I am intimidated. I do as he asks because the low growls behind the door are frightening. I head down the hall toward the stairs and hesitate. Won’t Bardo be mad? I haven't done as he has asked. He may punish me for disobeying him. I haven’t been able to check on that guest. So I return back up the stairs and to the door and knock again.

“Sir, please, let me just come in and change your bedding and towels.”

“I don’t need any care,” the deep voice says again. “ _Leave_.”

The angry growl on the other side of the door frightens me off again and I head back down the stairs, now frightened of the consequences. My tail droops and my ears are lowered.

“How was he?” Bardo asks, crossing his arms and glaring down at me when he notices my ears and tail.

“The guest? Oh, um, he wouldn’t let me enter, sir.”

“I asked you to lay eyes on him, kitten. Go back up there and do as you are bid.” His voice is slightly threatening—though more like the clients I saw last night than Virus or the doctor.

My fur bristles at his tone—and I have to decide if I am more afraid of an impending punishment or of that cat upstairs. At this point, Bardo is pretty big and I’m _sure_ I don’t want to face a public, embarrassing spectacle in the square. I don’t know the innkeeper at all, but he seems as though he will do as he says. So I turn around and head back up the stairs and down the end of the hallway, knocking again gently.

“Please, sir. I have been ordered to check on you.”

“I don’t need anything!” His voice is still low and laced with a growl, though it’s much softer.

“But sir—if I can’t at least, um, set foot in your room I’m, um, I’m afraid I will be punished,” I whisper against the door. “ _Please_. I’m on loan from the local, um, halfway house. Otherwise, I would leave you alone. I’m very sorry to disturb.”

There’s a long pause and no response. Taking a risk, I press down the door handle and open the door. I keep my face lowered humbly, as humble as I can be while still making an effort to see how the guest is doing—but the moment I enter the room, I notice something strange right away.

An unusual smell is filling the room. It’s a very weird mix—something pleasant like freshly fallen rain, but that scent is mixed with the metallic smell of blood.It’s so unnerving that I jerk up my chin and look at the bed, which is splattered with deep red and brown stains—fresh blood and dried blood. The cat lying there is a _mess_. It’s a terrifying sight!

My body freezes for a moment before my survival mode kicks into gear. I’ve lived on my own for many years and I know basic (and also not-so-basic) first aid. So after initially freaking out about intruding on a guest who doesn’t want me here _and_ about the blood, I take a deep breath and collect myself.

“You’re injured, sir,” I say, struggling to stay calm. “You need care right away!”

“I’m fine. Just leave.”

I give him a closer look—long silver hair spattered with blood—and I jerk my face up to his. _Silver_ hair? Like the cat I saw a few days ago outside the house? I stare at him in confusion and I am pretty sure I recognize him—but his black and blue clothes are torn and bloodied and his body is covered in wounds. I notice his face is particularly bloody and he is holding a towel against his right cheek and covering his eye.

“You need assistance,” I say. “I’m sorry to intrude, but you need help.”

“I don’t. _Leave_. Get out.”

“You’ve been here since yesterday? Let me help you. Please.” I am trying to find out where the most severe wound is, and it looks like it’s somewhere on his face. His eye looks like it’s injured.

“ _Get out_ ,” he growls low, turning away from me to face the wall. He doesn’t seem to recognize me, but I notice his ears twitch responsively when I speak. Two days ago, he stopped by because he heard my voice from outside the house. I wonder if he knows I’m the cat who was singing!

But there’s no time for that now.

“My name is Konoe, and I have some skill in the healing arts. I could call a doctor, but you need care right now. I’ll come right back with supplies.”

“I said I don’t require your care!” He barks at me, but I ignore him and turn around, leaving the room and the grumpy cat behind me. I rush back downstairs to Bardo.

“So?” The tiger cat asks.

“He’s wounded—terribly wounded—blood is everywhere. He needs care right away! Um, sir,” I think to add at the last moment.

“Oh, sure, let me see what I can get for you. Fetch a bucket of hot water while I get the supplies.” Bardo leaves for a moment and I get a few small bowls from the shelves in the kitchen while Gen fills the pail. Bardo hands me a basket. Wait—he wants me to handle this on my own?

“Shouldn’t we call a doctor?” I ask.

“Do you know the basics of first aid?”

I nod.

“Then go.” He sends me back upstairs. “Don’t let him scare you, kitten. Cats get protective when they are in pain. As long as you know what to do, you’ll be fine.”

I nod my head uncertainly and carry everything back up the stairs, trying to keep my wooden shoes from clacking too loudly on the floor. I knock twice and announce, “It’s me. I’m coming in,” before pushing the door open.

The injured cat turns toward me—and another low, frightening growl fills the room. He is severely injured, though, so I doubt he will hurt me, at least no more than Bardo would, at this point.

“Are you deaf as well as stupid? I said I don’t need your care!” He is awfully stubborn for a cat in that bad of shape! I find it slightly annoying. I don't like a stranger calling me stupid!

“If I don’t take care of your wounds, you will bleed to death or get an infection. And worse than that, _I_ will be punished. So please let me do this,” I say. I walk into the room trying to exude more confidence than I actually feel and set the pail of water on the floor. It’s hot still but not boiling. I give him a once-over from head to toe—and his skin is so pale it’s nearly white, but covered with blood.

“Where is your worst injury?” I ask, tying back the sleeves of my robe. Just by looking, I can guess it’s that eye.

“Probably my eye,” he mumbles—and the tone is totally different now than it was just a moment ago. He sounds exhausted.

That’s where I start. Using clean cloths soaked in hot water, I start wiping down his face and blotting his injury. His eye—his right eye—has been severely wounded. It looks like a sharp claw has slashed from the bridge of his nose across his eye to his temple. It looks painful—and it’s still bleeding.

“When did this happen?” I need to know how long he’s been bleeding like this.

“Yesterday afternoon,” he inhales sharply, and I can tell it must hurt him. His other eye, pale blue, meets my gaze suspiciously. “You look awfully young. Do you know what the hell you’re doing?”

“Yes, I have some healing skills and understand how to use herbs. Chew a couple of these.” I push a few medicinal leaves into his mouth—holding them up for a moment so he can see what they are. I know they will sedate him and make him feel less pain. He takes them willingly enough, but his other eye keeps watching me carefully. It’s a beautiful icy blue framed with long, white, lush lashes. Now I’m _sure_ this is the same cat who stopped by the house the other day. I even recognize his voice. What a weird coincidence!

I press his hands to the bed on either side of his body—they are covered in garish slashes as well, some deeper than others. I'll have to take care of them later, but probably after I see to his eye.

“If you’ve been bleeding since yesterday, you may need stitches. This is still bleeding,” I murmur quietly while gently cleaning his eye socket. There is nothing left of his right eye. “You will not regain the use of this eye, regardless of what we do today.”

He sighs, hissing every now and then and thinking of stopping my hands, grabbing them occasionally, but I continue to work carefully and thoroughly.

“I have to clean the wound before I can stop the bleeding,” I explain. “I’m sorry if it hurts.” And I really am—it looks excruciating. I can’t imagine what the cat I saw two days ago must have done to get himself in this state. He looked nearly invincible to me. I apply a little disinfectant to the skin I plan to suture—it stings at first, but it cleans the wound as well as make the skin a little numb. “Yeah, it looks like you need sutures.”

He sighs again, as though I am inconveniencing him. It’s a little silly, in my opinion, but I try not to let it bother me.

“As long as you know what you’re doing.”

“If you’d like, we can call a doctor for you.” He is a handsome cat—I know he is since I remember his face from the other day. I wonder if my skills will be good enough for him. I’d hate to mar his good looks—though whoever did this to him certainly did a number on him first, much worse than anything I could do.

“Why? If you know what you’re doing.”

“All right.”

I nod and prepare the sutures—and my supply looks a lot like what I used to use for mending clothes. Once everything is prepared, I rinse his eye one last time and dab it gently. He is no longer hissing at me, but I do hear him growling from time to time.

Once I get started, I use precision and a steady hand to connect the tissue from his upper lash line to his lower lid. I'm careful to arrange his lashes so they are not poking into the wound. Hopefully, this will stop the bleeding and also ensure he doesn’t end up with an infection. As I work, I ask casually, “How did this happen?”

“You should see the other guy,” he replies, his voice completely flat and neutral. I meet the pale blue eye watching me in surprise. It almost sounds like he’s making a joke. “You have surprisingly gentle hands.”

“I have some practice and experience,” I say, secretly pleased with the compliment. “What caused your injury? Were you in a fight?”

“The bounty I was chasing—his claw.”

Bounty? Oh—so he’s a bounty hunter. That explains why he was interested in my song, too, if he thought I was a Sanga. But what sort of creature would have a claw this large? The wound is deep and it looks like it was made by a single slash.

“Were you hunting a monster?” I’ve never seen anything with claws that could make this sort of injury.

“A demon,” he says neutrally.

A little shiver courses down my spine when he says that. He’s a bounty hunter skilled enough to go after demons! Impressive—except that this fight obviously didn’t turn out in his favor. In the back of my mind, I think about Verg and Razel for a moment, wondering if he could kill them. I don't even think twice about it, as though this is a natural response. It doesn't really occur to me till later that I want those demons dead for what they did to me.

Once I finish bandaging his eye, I ask, “Do you have any other severe injuries?”

“No. I think everything else is minor.”

“All right.” I stand up for a moment—the water is just about gone, and he still is covered with blood. So I announce my next step.

“I’m going to let you rest for a while, and then we need to get you cleaned up. You need new clothes and some soap and water. I'll see to any other injuries then.”

He sighs again in acknowledgment and I head back downstairs, carrying the blood-soaked cloths in the pail.

“Sir?” I ask Bardo. “I think I helped his most significant injury, but he needs to get cleaned up and needs new clothes. He needs to rest a little while.”

“Okay. Um, good job,” Bardo says.

“Sir? Is there a reason he won’t see you?”

“Ah. No, not really. He just doesn’t like me much.”

I find that comment a little strange, but I follow the tall tiger cat to fetch some spare clothes for his guest and then get to work on cleaning up the bloody mess of cloths, hanging them out to dry as well.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Konoe is ordered back up to the injured guest's room and he obeys, hesitantly. He gets to know the silver cat a little better.

I spend the next half an hour cleaning up the blood from the cloths I used to stem the guest’s bleeding and have hung them out on the line when Bardo greets me at the back door. He’s holding a pile of bedding, towels, and clothing and nods his chin briefly.

“Take these upstairs and help that guest change and clean up. We don’t want the blood to soak through the mattress. Put him in the other guest bed after you’ve cleaned him up, then bring down all the bedding and wash it.”

“Yes, sir.”

I really think the silver cat ought to rest a little more before I disturb him again. I gave him some medicine that will make him tired, and he’s too large in stature for me to move him unassisted. But Bardo is insistent I do this now, so I obey. I realize then I’m frightened of the tiger.

Dropping the bedding outside the guest’s door, I then head back down to fetch some more hot water—two buckets for washing and rinsing—and then bring them back upstairs with more cloths. Taking a deep breath, I try to relax as I gently tap my claws on the door.

“Sir, I’m sorry to disturb you. It’s Konoe.”

I don’t wait for a response, but I hear a soft growl when I enter the room. The guest is much more comfortable than he was—the leaves I gave him earlier seem to be taking effect. But he glares up at me with his remaining icy blue eye when I walk in.

“I don’t need any care,” he insists. He sounds exhausted and I feel sorry for interrupting his rest. However, the alternative is dealing with Bardo, and I don't want to deal with that.

“Please, let me help you get cleaned up and into fresh bedding. You’ll be much more comfortable.”

He sighs heavily when he sees I am bringing in buckets of water and supplies. Already, the scent of blood is a little less than it was when I first treated his eye, but he’s still a mess. My patient is lying on his side on the bed. He looks well enough to help me change his clothes, I suppose.

“I’m going to check out the rest of your wounds now and clean you up. You’re going to need to replace your clothes.”

“I’m fine. This is fine.”

I narrow my gaze again.

“If you send me away and I have missed something, I will be punished. Please, just let me do this.”

The cat exhales loudly but doesn’t protest, so I gently help him to sit up on the bed, using several pillows to support him. I start with the rest of his head and his face. His ears are rounded like Bardo’s—and a lovely white. They are cute, maybe the _only_ cute thing about this elegant and handsome cat, covered in plush white fur. And he looks much better after I wipe the blood from his face. I try using a sponge to clean the blood from his hair, checking the rest of his head for injuries. I’m glad his ears are unharmed. A cat’s ears are quite sensitive and can be torn, but he looks good.

I will probably need to shampoo his hair at some point, but for now, I am satisfied with just getting the splotches of blood out of it. It’s smooth and silky—prettier hair than I have ever seen on a cat—and I’m a little shocked that I notice such a thing. I can’t remember ever finding another cat attractive, at least not like he is to me.

His throat is scratched and I clean the wound, but it’s almost scarred over completely. That must have been a close call, I think. If the demon had managed to catch his neck with the same force and speed he caught the cat’s eye, the silver cat wouldn’t have made it. The cat simply rests and lets me do my work, growling and hissing from time to time, but much more listlessly than he was before.

I’m not sure that listlessness is a good thing, however. There’s also a certain heat rising from his body as if he has a fever. I worry a little that perhaps his eye has been infected or perhaps the demon’s talon was venomous because surely this heat is from more than just his body trying to heal itself. I gently peel away the pieces of his shirt to look at his chest. His shirt is ruined, but I put each piece aside in a small tub for later so I can clean his skin. I can’t help noticing with a slight flush how beautiful his chest and abdomen is. He’s so incredibly muscular—he must work hard to maintain this shape. I hope he doesn’t notice how flustered I am, but then he brushes my ears. It sends a wave of tingling pleasure down my neck.

“Hmph. Pink ears.”

He hasn’t said very much since I’ve been here and I glance up at him, flattening my ears in irritation while continuing to clean the blood from his body. I haven’t found any other wounds that require sutures, but I don’t even know this cat’s name. Perhaps I should know it if I’m going to be touching him so intimately.

Although, I wasn’t introduced to any of the cats that forced themselves upon me last night, either. Surely that was a more intimate experience than this. Still, I open my mouth, pushing the horrible memory of last night back deep into my subconscious.

“What’s your name?”

“Rai.” It’s a perfect name for him, really. Straightforward, direct, to the point, strong.

“And where are you from?”

“Setsura. Where’s your home?”

I fuss with his chest a little more, wiping him from his throat down to his belly before I answer.

“Karou.”

“Konoe of Karou. And how did you end up working at a place like this?”

“Um, I think it’s intended to be punishment.”

A sharp, startling sound comes from deep in Rai’s throat at my response. It takes me a minute to realize it was a chuckle. He’s _laughing_ at my comment.

“What? Forcing unwanted care on an injured person is _your_ punishment?”

I flatten my ears again, struggling to keep my fur flat. I don’t succeed, as I see when Rai’s eye land on my bristled, waving tail.

“No,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm. “I mean… I’m not really sure how I got here. Lean forward and let me check your back.”

“It’s fine,” he says, but he doesn’t resist. He accepts my help reluctantly, and I wipe him down. I think I hear a soft, gentle purr coming from his body—and it’s absolutely hypnotizing. It makes my mouth water.

After unbuckling two belts that look like they are supposed to be for holding weapons, I pull off his leather over-the-knee boots and figure I should keep going.

“What is supposed to be a punishment? And punishment for what?” His voice is much softer now than it was, and it sounds really nice laced with a purr. I should probably mention that he is most likely purring because of the medicine I gave him earlier. Ribika will purr when they are heavily injured and it’s thought that purring helps promote healing.

“I meant working at the inn,” I clarify.

“You don’t usually work here?”

“No.”

“Temporary help?”

“You can call it that.”

“But it’s meant to punish you?” He seems insistent—and I glance at his face. I think he probably needs another dose of that herbal medicine I gave him earlier. He is talking too much and his eye isn’t glazed over, so he is probably still in pain. I don’t really know how much he can take safely, but he is much taller than me.

“Yeah. I was, um…” I let my voice trail off and consider if I should lie about my position here. It seems I don’t have any reason to hide. I mean, this is a cat who _kills_ for a living. Surelyhe won’t care about me getting pinched for stealing. “I was caught stealing some food from the market and I was arrested.”

“Hmph.” He doesn’t sound particularly judgmental, only like he is listening to me. “But you still seem to have the use of both hands. Were you shown mercy?”

“Perhaps you could say that,” I say. Maybe it _was_ mercy. “I was sold to a local halfway house. Unfortunately, I didn’t, um, I didn’t seem to fit in there—for the work they intended for me. I’m, er, apparently not, um, compliant enough. So I was loaned out here for further training.”

The small white ears flatten against his head.

“The tiger who runs this place. He _paid_ for you?”

“Well, he paid for me to work here for a while. He needed assistance.” Looking up at Rai, I clear my throat. “I need you to help me with these pants.”

He sighs heavily—that same sound as if I’m inconveniencing him, which would be amusing in other circumstances—but he undoes the buttons on his trousers and works his way out of them. His legs are in good shape—no wounds that I can see—but I wipe them down, trying not to be distracted by that pale skin.

“Let’s move you to the other bed. The sheets are clean. You’ll feel much better.” I offer him my arm to assist, but he stands up on his own—swaying widely—rejecting my help. At this point, I have to smile at how ridiculously he is fighting and resisting my care. I haven’t hurt him so far—so I don’t understand why he doesn’t accept my help. I grab hold of his waist when he sways and lead him to the bed on the other side of the small room.

Before he can lie down, though, I slip the spare robe onto his shoulders and wrap it around his body. This will give him a little coverage and warmth—and hopefully, I won’t be as distracted by that lovely skin of his. I flatten my ears again while tying the robe closed when I feel a soft touch and hear the metallic sound of the piercing. It stings when he touches it.

“This is their mark? From the house? It looks fresh.”

“Among others,” I mutter. “I was branded, too.”

“Branded? That’s quite permanent.” He touches my chin for a moment, tilting my face to meet his gaze. “Do you mean you were _sold_ to that house?”

I nod and shrug my shoulders.

“They said they could help me find work. But I’m not suited for the kind of work they do.”

“I see.” I wonder really how much he understands.

“Does anything else bother you?”

“Have we met?” He isn’t answering my question, and I’m not sure how to answer him.

“Um, I don’t think so.” I lift up a cup of juice to his lips. “You should drink something and take some more medication. You should sleep.”

“You’re very bossy,” he remarks, taking the cup from my hands. His hands are trembling as though he is unsteady and he flattens his ears when he sees I’ve noticed. “Are you sure we haven’t met before?”

“It’s possible you stopped by the house the other day,” I reply softly, unsure if I want him to know I’m the cat he was looking for. “You knocked at the door and I saw you just for a second. I don’t think you saw me.”

His ears twitch and he sits up straight. A short silence follows before he continues.

“ _You’re_ the one I heard singing?”

I nod.

“Huh. Have you always been able to sing like that?”

I shrug.

“No, it just sort of came out—as a reflex,” I say.

“It felt like the song was meant for me. Like you were crying out for help from _me_.” His voice is really different now—almost full of awe.

Well, I _was_ crying out for help, I think but don’t actually say. If that’s all it takes for me to sing like that, perhaps I will sing like that again before the day is over. I quickly push that thought from my mind. I don't want to think about what lies ahead of me here.

“I will change the bandage on your eye later tonight and tomorrow, if you have energy, perhaps you can have a real bath.” I’m hoping he won’t talk about me singing anymore.

Rai is still staring at me.

“Why are you here?”

“What do you mean?” I think I already answered that question.

“If you can sing like that, why are you _here_ , working at an old run-down inn?”

“It was just a song,” I say softly, feeling a slight blush rising on my cheeks. “And I don’t have a choice in where I work. I have to do what they tell me or I am punished severely.”

“It _wasn’t_ just a song. You are a Sanga.”

“That can’t be true,” I mutter in disbelief. I know both Virus and Arbitro said I was a Sanga, too, but how could they possibly know? After one song? After what Verg had done to me? That first dose of medicinal leaves must be working better than I thought if he's hung up on my song.

“I’m a Touga and I can confirm what I heard. You are a Sanga.” Rai looks at me, touching my chin so I lift my face to his. “I think you should sing for me.”

“Well, you may hear the song before the day is over,” I comment wryly. “It comes out when I’m at my most desperate.”

“Are you afraid? Is the tiger threatening you?” His voice sharpens again.

I shrug my shoulders again, resigned.

“I don’t know what my duties here are, but… well. I don’t have any say in any of it.” Plus, what’s _he_ going to do? He won’t be able to save me, I’m sure. Not in the shape he is in now, anyway.

“It pained me—your song—it physically caused my chest to hurt, even from the street. I’d passed the house and was nearly to the forest when I heard your song. Still—it sounded like you were calling me. Like your _soul_ was calling me.”

My cheeks flush and I turn around, grabbing a few more leaves. He needs more medicine, I’m sure. And they will shut him up, I hope.

“Hush,” I say softly, giving him the leaves. “Take these and sleep.”

“Is the tiger going to lay hands on you? Is he the one threatening to punish you?” Rai pushes away the leaves, and I insist he takes them. He's winning so far.

“I’ll be fine,” I say, my voice soft. “Let’s get you well again. I’ll bring up your dinner later, but now you need to sleep.” I push the glass of juice back into his hands.

“I won’t eat anything the tiger makes.”

I sigh in irritation.

“You _have_ to eat. You won’t get better if you don’t eat.” Why is he even staying here if he hates the owner so much?

He lies down on the pillow and curls up on his side, watching me.

“I think you should sing for me.”

I glare at him.

“I told you, it was just an accident.”

“I can _train_ you. You can control it. I could feel your power. If you didn’t even know I was there and your song felt like that… well, I can’t imagine how powerful you will become when you can control it.”

“Okay, I will sing for you. _Later_. But first, you need to sleep. Take these,” I say, pressing the leaves into his hand again. He still doesn’t take them.

“I’ll take them if you sing for me.” The corners of his mouth curve up just a little bit.

“You’re awfully stubborn,” I say. “You’re the worst patient I’ve ever treated.”

“I might be the _only_ patient you’ve ever treated, too.”

I frown. He’s right. Well, maybe I treated Tokino’s ankle once.

“Sing for me. And I will take your medicine and sleep.”

I sigh, unsure of how to actually produce a song.

“Sit.”

He is really bossy. _Sing, sit down, don’t touch_. But I obey.

“Close your eyes.”

His voice is hypnotic and wonderful. I love how he sounds. I do as he asks and close my eyes.

“Your ears are so big.”

I open my eyes and glare at him. He’s almost smirking at me.

“Mine are normal. Yours are tiny and cute.”

His ears flatten a little, reflecting mine.

“Close your eyes,” he repeats. “Now. Think back about the first time you sang. Where were you? What was happening?”

The relaxation that I was feeling dissipates in an instant—like a puff of smoke. My body stiffens and my stomach roils. I feel disgusted—for myself, for Verg, for whatever he was doing to me at the time… And I feel fear.

Fear seems to flood my body from the tips of my toes and going up to my shoulders, making my fur bristle and my ass burn. My shoulders stiffen, too, and a small helpless meow slips from my mouth.

A large hand rests gently on my shoulder. It's soothing.

“Relax. It’s all right. You’re safe here. I won’t let anything happen to you. These are just memories. Think of how you felt at that moment.”

Helpless. Vulnerable. In excruciating pain. Hopeless. Desperate. A tear slips out through my closed eyelid and skates down my cheek.

“He hurt me,” I whisper. “That devil… he hurt me. And he humiliated me. He made my body respond.” I’m not trying to talk—just the thoughts come out. I don’t open my eyes—surely, if I opened them, I’d see the elegant silver cat looking at me with judgment and disdain in his eye. I don't want to see that. I feel like a disgusting creature, I think.

“Think of how your song might save you,” Rai whispers—his mouth suddenly quite close to my ear.

My skin starts to tingle—especially around my chest, which is tight and nervous and afraid. I try to take a deep breath, but I only manage a shaky one. I’m trying not to cry—I don’t want to cry in front of this cat. What do I have to complain about? Why should I feel so upset? He’s _physically_ injured. I’m only _remembering_ the pain—and nothing permanent was done to me…

My skin gets warmer—and my heart lifts. I am able to catch a breath—and I breathe deeply as if a weight has been lifted suddenly from my shoulders. It feels _good_ —safe. Keeping my eyes closed, I let that weightlessness flood my body, taking the place of the fear. A gentle rhythm, matching my heartbeat, throbs in my body, vibrates my flesh, skates across my skin—and a quiet, lilting melody escapes.

At first, I don’t understand what the sound is—since it isn’t coming from my mouth. This is spilling from my body. It’s a gentle, soothing song, and it’s _pretty_. No—it’s _beautiful_. I like this song. And this song is for Rai—for the beautiful, injured, silver cat sitting next to me.

Warmth spills from my body and surrounds the space between us. Even from behind my closed eyes, a bright light seems to be filling the room. It’s startling, so I open my eyes—gasping when I see slim tendrils of light spilling from my body and wrapping around the silver cat. It’s a warm, golden glow—and it feels like it belongs there.

Along with the melody, a soft purr resonates in my chest, mirroring Rai’s purr, both vibrating my body pleasantly and rippling across my fur. I feel comfort and warmth and safety—something I haven’t felt in a very long time. Possibly that first night I spent at Halfway felt like this, but even that didn’t feel as natural as this.

Soon, however, my song fades, as Rai continues brushing his claws through the fur on my ears. I feel a soft, damp touch to the very tip of the ear that isn’t pierced—almost as though the silver cat kissed me. It’s utterly indulgent—a kiss for the sake of a gentle touch. Then, his low voice rumbles softly in my ear.

“Thank you. That was beautiful.”

“You will take your medicine now?” I ask, turning to look at him as he lies back against the pillow. I feel slightly embarrassed, as though I revealed something of myself in that song, as though I exposed myself to him.

“Hmph.” That small judgmental sound comes out, but it doesn’t match his now relaxed expression. He accepts the leaves I push into his mouth—and I can’t help myself, but I brush a finger against one of his fangs. He even has pretty fangs.

“Sleep,” I say, then stand up and start with the bloodied sheets. I strip the bed and clean it, put on new sheets and make it neatly, all the while feeling that pale blue gaze watching me. I’ve gathered everything up, including his ruined clothes.

“I will try to see what I can salvage of your clothes,” I say. Perhaps some might be mended.

“Come here for a minute.”

I obey—sort of surprised at how quickly I comply with his request. Normally I would resist a little, but I don’t at all.

He pulls me in gently by my shoulders and kisses my nose.

“Thank you.”

I glance up at him—from up close—and again am stunned at how gorgeous he is. His arms, while gentle around my shoulders, are powerful and strong. I quickly cast my gaze down and feel my ears heat up in embarrassment.

“Hmm.”

I’m sure that’s in response to the color of my ears.

“I’ll be back to check on you later and bring you dinner. Rest well and get better.”

It’s much more difficult than I expect to tear myself away from the room, though I manage to carry all the supplies back down the stairs. But my heart is light and I feel a soft smile on my face as I go about the rest of the day.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in a single day?! Wow. Well, I've been having terrible writer's block so when I have something to post, I want to just do it.
> 
> In this next chapter, Bardo gives Konoe a taste of other services that will be required from him during his stay. (For those of you who follow Lamento canon, consider him bad-end Bardo. He did, after all, pay for services, and it's his job to ensure that Konoe learns his place.)
> 
> Triggers: non-consensual stripping, oral sex, and a serious fear of asphyxiation/gagging. This is a dark fic. Please read with caution.

After I’ve cleaned the blood from Rai's clothing and the bedding and hung them on the line to dry, I’m resting a moment outside by the washtub when Bardo’s low voice floats into my ear.

“Taking it easy, are we?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, sir,” I reply, climbing to my feet immediately. Truthfully, I’m exhausted from running up and down the stairs all day, doing the dishes and laundry and bedding and towels—as well as the stress from treating that grumpy injured cat. It’s odd—as though I expected _he_ might save me from my place here. In fact, it seems I am the one doing the saving.

“What was that sound I heard earlier?” It sounds more like an accusation than a question, and I flatten my ears fearfully.

“Um, the guest upstairs asked me to sing for him.”

“Sing?”

“Yes. I think he heard me singing at the house a few days ago—and he stopped to inquire about me at that time.”

“Did he?” The question again sounds like an accusation.

“He wouldn’t take his medicine or sleep until I complied with his request,” I insist. “I was only trying to help him—to help his injuries. I’m sorry if I disturbed you, sir.”

The tiger takes a deep breath, hands still on his hips.

“Why don’t you come inside for a moment?” Bardo suggests. “Follow me.”

I obey, keeping my eyes glued to the striped tail in front of me—and I end up following the tiger into a small room on the other side of the lobby. This looks like a bedroom. Ugh! A _bedroom_! _His_ bedroom! I should have known household chores weren’t the _only_ thing I would have to take care of today! My stomach hurts.

“Take a seat,” Bardo says, lifting his eyebrows and motioning to his bed. “Take a load off. You look tired.”

I hesitate and my fur bristles when the door closes behind him. He is standing in front of the door, too, and there is no escape for me.

“Um, I-i’m f-fine now,” I stammer, still on my feet and feeling desperate to get out of this small space. I’m terribly frightened of what may be done to me in this small room. “Please, I was only resting for a moment—”

“I know. You’re so very new, aren’t you? Virus assured me you’d had your debut only yesterday—and that you had to be sedated for every customer you saw.”

Looking down at my feet in embarrassment, I don’t know how to reply. A certain amount of anger is roiling around in my guts, and I do my best to suppress it. It’s ridiculous to think that I would have readily submitted to _anything_ that was done to me last night—or that I will _ever_ submit my body to someone who is paying for my use! I don’t want to be here! This is not what I asked for or hoped for!

“I don’t have access to fancy drugs here, I’m afraid. And also, I require your _active_ and _willing_ participation. You do understand what happens if you disobey me, don’t you, kitten?”

I flinch when his hand brushes the fur on my ear, and I nod quickly.

“Why don’t you tell me?”

“I-i w-will be, um, punished, um, publicly.”

“That’s right. And you have heard that I am somewhat of an expert on training your kind?”

My _kind_? I wonder. It’s insulting! I’m Ribika just like any other cat. I don’t want whatever he is insinuating about "my kind" applied to how I see myself! I glance up just briefly—meeting amber eyes with a heated gaze. It forces me to look down at my feet once more.

“Yes, sir.” I have no idea what is meant by training, however.

“So, we serve dinner in the dining room and most nights, it’s late by the time the dinner service ends, leaving little time for, shall we say, _connection_ afterward. That being said, there are a couple of hours during the afternoon before food prep in which I will usually require your services.”

“Sir?” I ask, but I refuse to look up. I’m _dreading_ whatever is coming next. I know very well what he's talking about. I don't have to ask what he means by my "service." No one who touched me last night was anywhere close to his size. And he will expect me to work afterward? In the dining room? I can't imagine!

“That is no different from today. I expect to get what I paid for, you see.”

I swallow thickly. That’s right. I saw the money change hands—and not for the first time, either. I have been bought and paid for. My body aches—deep inside my hips, just below my tail—with just the _thought_ of this cat fucking me. He's much bigger than me and can surely force me to do whatever he wants. And damn it, he's going to _have_ to force me!

“However, if it really was your debut last night, you are probably quite tired and sore today. Plus, you need to see to the guest upstairs as well, before dinner service starts. I can’t have you off your feet or limping even more during dinner.”

Wait—does this mean he _isn’t_ going to force me? Hopefully, I peek up at him under my lashes.

“So this afternoon, I will suggest an alternative. But I can already tell you are less than receptive to the idea.”

“No, sir! Please—sir—give me a chance—”

“You _still_ have not taken a seat as I requested, kitten. You have _already_ disobeyed me.”

“Ah—I’m sorry, sir,” I say nervously and I quickly move to sit down on his bed, but my arm is grabbed before my butt can reach the mattress.

“Oh, I don’t think so. I have something else in mind. We need to be sure you are actually capable of obedience.” Instead of letting me sit down, Bardo moves me away from the bed and sits down on the side of the mattress himself, pulling me directly in front of him. With him sitting, his eyes are level with mine now, and a bolt of fresh terror shoots through my body, subduing my anger. “To start, let’s try to teach you your _place_ here.”

I can scarcely breathe, but Bardo sits back on the mattress. I consider—very briefly—how close I am to the door. I wonder if I might be able to make a run for it. The tiger sees my eyes skate over to the door and he chuckles.

“You _do_ know what will happen to you if you run from me? If you try to escape this place?”

My chin jerks up toward him and I accidentally meet his gaze. I cannot seem to drop my eyes, either, once they meet his. It’s as if he read my mind!

“I’ve dealt with this before—many times—and I will tell you public punishments are _awful_. If we have time tomorrow morning, perhaps I will take you to the square and you can witness it for yourself. Just to discourage future disobedience and increase your compliance, of course.”

Tears burn in my eyes and I feel like I might be sick.

“I’m, um, at your disposal, sir,” I whisper, lowering my ears and my tail.

“You are, indeed. And to _show_ me how submissive and obedient you are, you’re going to disrobe now.”

I flinch at the words and I freeze for a moment. Do I really have to undress? I thought he said he would take it easy on me! What is going on?!

He notices my hesitation right away.

“Kitten, in my book, delayed obedience is disobedience. Keep that in mind while calculating your next move.”

I let out a shaky, nervous breath and reach for my sash. It would be a simple thing—to untie the robe and let it slip from my shoulders. But I can’t quite seem to bring myself to do it. Tears burn my eyes and I am scared, but I can’t quite bring myself to comply. Part of me harbors hope that there might be some other option.

“D-didn’t I p-please you today?” I ask, keeping my face pointed at the cat’s feet and lifting up my eyes to meet his gaze hesitantly. “I tried so hard to obey you—I-i w-was even able to treat the injured guest upstairs!”

“Your prior actions have no effect on your current situation. As I see it, you have three options here. First, dig in your heels and disobey—and earn yourself a very public, embarrassing, and painful punishment tomorrow morning. Second, dig in your heels and disobey and allow _me_ to come up with the appropriate punishment tonight—it will be painful and humiliating as well, though only public to the guests visiting us for dinner. Or three, comply with what I ask like the good kitten I know you are. Serving me as I request will happen _regardless_ of which of those three options you choose.”

“Sir…”

“I said _disrobe_. I deserve to see what my money has paid for, don’t I?”

“Please—” I try begging but am interrupted.

“I will count to three. Option three will disappear on the count of three. Do you understand? If you don’t comply, you will choose between a public punishment tomorrow or semi-public punishment tonight— _and_ I will force your obedience. Understand, it’s much better for you if you just submit now. _One_.”

I still hesitate. It’s foolish and hopeless. I know he can force me to obey him anyway—and what he has planned for me will surely be worse _after_ a punishment. I need to just undress! So why is this so hard?!

“Two.” He really seems to relish the count. He almost sounds like he is teasing!

My arms feel heavy like they are filled with lead, but my fingers struggle with the obi and I manage to untie it. My claws are drawn and I feel my fangs bare, but I keep my face on my fingers and concentrate, forcing them to do what I am commanding them to do.

I don’t _want_ to take off my clothes, but I do it just the same. Somehow it’s worse to undress on my own than to be drugged and have someone else strip me—it makes me feel complicit in this awful treatment.

It’s only seconds before the sash falls to my feet and the robe slips from my shoulders, leaving me standing in front of him in just my sandals. A quiet sigh escapes the tiger.

“You are quite a treat, kitten. Compact and perfectly shaped. Come a little closer.”

I obey, hesitantly, since I do not want to be punished. I will obey! I’m still so sore from yesterday—but I _hate_ that I have to do this! I _hate_ it!

“Have you served someone orally before?”

Orally? Like with my mouth? My mind helpfully flashes back to the second client who saw me last night. The tiger can’t possibly be expecting me to do that to him, can he?!

“N-no, s-sir.” My voice is trembling with fear.

“Well, there’s a first time for everything. If you learn this skill and get good at it, you will save yourself from a lot of pain in the future. Consider it a small mercy.”

He’s talking as if me sucking him off is actually for my _own_ benefit! This is ridiculous! It feels like steam is coming out of my ears. I’m angry! And still very frightened. Could he force himself inside my mouth? What would prevent me from biting him?! I startle again when I feel his fingers force themselves into my mouth—using slow movements but still forcing my lips apart.

“You’re thinking I wouldn’t risk a bite from these adorable little fangs? Is that what you think? Keep in mind—if I feel even a _slight_ graze of fang from your teeth, you will be stuck with serious consequences, both immediately _and_ tomorrow in the square. Now, get on your knees. Just like that. Perfect.”

My skin is crawling—and the tiger cat smells like sweat. It’s not exactly an unpleasant smell, but I am not feeling this _at all_.

“This will be more pleasant for you if you are aroused, too. So _touch_ yourself. You look quite frightened.”

He smirks at me after taking a long look at my lap. I am not aroused—at all—and he is pointing it out. Who _would_ be aroused in my place? I have to wonder!

“Trust me. It will be easier and more fun for both of us. Go ahead. Use your hand. We have a little time and I like to watch.”

Feeling utterly humiliated, I tentatively start stroking my dick. I can’t meet his gaze, of course, but I don’t really want to watch what I’m doing either, so I try to keep my eyes on his feet. At first, I just sort of play with myself—but I’m so utterly self-conscious I don’t feel anything like lust. When his claws run through the fur on my tail and when he slightly pinches the tip, a small wave of pleasure runs into my hips, as though my body remembers how Verg touched me. It doesn’t exactly feel good as much as it feels uncomfortable and scary.

“Look at me.”

This is too much to ask, and tears spill down my cheeks. I’m devastated, but I manage to tip up my face and meet his gaze for a moment.

“Such a shy little thing. But you’re _gorgeous_ , even with those tears. Keep your eyes on me and keep that hand moving.”

To my horror, Bardo’s hands slip down to his apron, which he removes easily—and then to the buttons on his trousers. He is already hard—and Ribika—the idea that I have to put _that_ in my mouth is terrifying. I don't know if it will be much better in my mouth than inside my body! I am so scared I will choke—and I think about the cake that Trip force-fed me. If I vomit, it will be so much worse for me.

“Good boy,” Bardo purrs softly. “If you haven’t done this before, start slowly. You can use your free hand to help at first. Start by licking it like you would a delicious piece of candy.”

I consider begging for mercy again, but I’m sure mercy isn't one of the choices offered. And honestly, when I consider it, I realize that doing this _is_ going to be much less painful than the alternative—of him putting that thing inside my asshole. I’m much too sore and tired for that. This is a mercy, I realize.

The fact that this _is_ a small mercy absolutely _disgusts_ me. How did I get to this place?!

I close my eyes and lower my face to his lap, holding onto his hilt with my left hand and swirling my tongue around the tip. He lets out a surprisingly loud lusty moan and moves his hips a little.

“Just like that—just start slow. That’s nice. Good boy.”

My fur bristled at the continuous comments and praise, I continue doing what I have been, moving the hand on my own dick to his as well. I’m barely aroused and he is swelling more and more, and it will be easier to hold him with both hands then to risk choking on him.

“Open your mouth and cover your fangs. Then bring it into your mouth. Be careful of your teeth, kitten. I’d _hate_ to see you punished this evening. The goddess only knows what our guests would do to you in the dining room if I made you serve them dinner naked.”

My ears twitch at his words and I glance up at him from my position on the floor. A lot of horrible stuff has been done to me since I was purchased from the jail, but this feels particularly degrading. Part of my mind realizes that this is an activity I might actually enjoy doing with a partner I am attracted to or wanted to please. (A flash of silver intrudes into my brain but I push it away in an instant.) Being forced to do it on someone I don’t even know, someone who paid for me, ruins the activity.

And as I round off my lips—according to his command—taking care to cover my fangs—for some weird reason the silver cat comes into my head again. Not as I _just_ saw him—not covered with blood and wounds, but the strong, straight-backed cat I saw standing outside the door. I close my eyes and try to relax.

Truthfully, it was easier last night—though much more terrifying—when I couldn’t move or resist. This is me, actually participating in my own (unwanted) future. It feels so much worse, so much more mortifying—and it feels like the tiger expects me to enjoy “serving” him this way. I try not to think about it too hard, instead of working my best to get him off as quickly as possible while taking no notice of me and how repulsed I am.

Increasing suction in my mouth, and listening to Bardo’s comments—more tongue, move my head, a little more pressure, but not so rough—I work him up into a frenzy. I can tell he is close by how much he has swollen. He continues petting me—my back, my tail, my ears—when suddenly he grabs the back of my head.

“Relax,” he orders calmly, though his breath is still elevated.

He thrusts his hips up into my mouth, and I start to gag and choke—this is as bad as the incident with the snakes, I think—and I am close to panic. My body stiffens all at once and I try to beg for mercy. I manage to keep my jaw open, sticking my tongue out as far as it can go—but I have no power against a cat this size. And my earlier question from before has been answered: yes, it is _definitely_ possible to force someone to perform oral sex.

I am trying my best not to gag, but I can’t even seem to get any air in through my nose—my nose and eyes are running, and it seems to take forever. I wonder if I might not be better off if he _did_ actually kill me now, knowing that this is the life ahead of me.

But no—I don’t even lose consciousness. Finally, he spills into the back of my mouth, while my hands are braced against his hips fighting him with everything I’ve got. My claws are drawn, but I’m trying hard not to injure him. I can see I have left scratches on his hipbones as soon as my vision clears.

“Swallow,” he says, needlessly. I’ve already swallowed the salty substance and my jaw aches. He leans back and looks at me again—noticing I am not even a little aroused. I flatten my ears when I see where he is looking and I cover myself with my hands.

“Kitten, this will be _pleasant_ for you if you can learn to relax a little more. And shit, didn’t they trim your claws?” He rubs the scratches and I'm terrified he will punish me.

“They did, sir,” I say—and my voice is hoarse and sore.

He ignores me and grabs my hand, pushing down on my palm to extend my claws. They’ve been both filed and clipped, as far as I can remember.

“I see. They are just so small—even clipped they can leave marks. Well. That wasn’t awful for your first time.” Bardo groans loudly and stands up from the bed, giving a nice long stretch. I’m still kneeling on the floor in my sandals—and nothing else—feeling horribly dirty and used. I can’t seem to flatten my fur or perk up my ears. “Oh, cheer up, kitten! This is your life now! I mean, I even helped their current star pupil, Aoba, when he first arrived. You should be glad you have me to teach you the ropes.”

My chin is grabbed and my neck craned back, forcing me to meet his gaze again.

“You _do_ realize I’ve shown you mercy? I could have taken you another way, caused you physical pain.”

I blink away several fresh tears and I whimper softly, “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

He keeps my chin in his hand and strokes it a few times.

“You are a sweet little thing. I wonder… will this be your first mating season?”

I nod again, as much as I am able with his hand gripping me tightly.

“Yes, sir.”

“ _Wonderful_. I’m sure we’ll both have a good time. You’ll come into full blossom then. Now… get dressed and come help me in the kitchen.”

He has fixed his trousers and tied on his apron, and he opens the door—leaving me naked and kneeling on the floor—and _leaves_ it open, so anyone coming by the lobby might see my current state of undress. Blood floods my cheeks and ears and I hustle as quickly as I can to pull on my robe, struggling to tie it neatly and fold it the way it was before. It’s not very neat—and not up to standard, apparently, when I appear in the kitchen.

“You can’t be greeting and serving customers like that,” Bardo grumbles. Gen is working at the counter prepping vegetables, and he looks up when Bardo speaks. He’s watching me. Bardo takes two steps over to me and unties my robe, opens it fully—almost as though to put me in my place by displaying me to the other cat in the room, as though I am his property!—and then folds it up around me, tying it closed securely.

I resist the urge to cry—but I feel like I might burst into tears any minute.

“Get down to the storage cellar and bring me up a pound of potatoes and some root vegetables. Fill the bowl.” Bardo hands me a bowl and I scurry off—glad to be out of the kitchen for now, but incredibly intimidated. If Bardo has no reserve about exposing me to his employees, what exactly will be expected from me in the dining room?

I try not to worry about it. I can’t think that far ahead. Instead, I concentrate on obeying his commands as quickly as possible. I don’t want to be punished. And my mind keeps wandering to the silver cat upstairs, wishing to Ribika that he would save me from this fate. But what am I to him? A petty thief? A whore? What use could I possibly be?


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Konoe checks on Rai and gets in a bit of trouble after singing for him.
> 
> Bardo finds another way he can "serve" the guests.
> 
> This chapter reads as very non-con (with a little comfort) because it is non-con. Reader beware.
> 
> Triggers: unwanted groping and touching, human furniture.

“Take this to the guest upstairs,” Bardo says.

I have been trying my best to keep up with his orders—washing, peeling and chopping vegetables and fruit, fetching things from storage, stirring soup and sauces in progress and so far, I’ve only been barked at a handful of times. It isn’t the barking that makes me nervous, though. I’m much more wary of Bardo’s wandering hands. After what he just did to me in that bedroom, how could I feel any other way?

I keep my ears lowered and take the tray from his hands. I’ve been paying attention to who has been making which items, and the soup and bread on the tray were made by Gen (with my assistance) and not Bardo, so I think there’s a good chance Rai will eat it. The silver cat _has_ to eat something if he’s going to recover.

Not wasting time, since there is still so much to do for dinner, I carry the tray carefully upstairs and to the end of the hall. I knock softly and there is no response. I’m sorry to wake the silver cat, but he needs to eat. I quietly push open the door.

The silver cat is resting in the bed and he looks better. His eyes are closed and his face is relaxed—and so handsome. I’m a little surprised that I keep noticing how nice looking he is, especially considering the past few days I have had. Strangely, I'm looking forward to his grumpy, gruff tone. I also brought up a variety of medicines and a new bandage for his eye. 

Setting the tray down on the table, I walk over to the bed and gently touch his head at the base of his ears. I’m surprised at how hot he feels and it makes me nervous. He needs a fever-reducer as well. His ears flatten slightly when they are touched and his functioning eye opens.

The sharpness of his gaze pierces me. His pale blue eye is focused and sharp, taking in his surroundings carefully. If he’s this alert, I need to give him more medication this time.

“How are you feeling?” I ask, keeping my voice quiet. “I brought food and medical supplies.”

“Hmph,” he says—and while his tone is gruff, his face is neutral. Maybe he is just a gruff cat—maybe he doesn’t have much experience around others or doesn't care about social norms. His eye wanders to the table and his brow furrows. “Did the old man make that? I won’t eat it.”

“No,” I say. “His kitchen helper Gen did, and I helped, too. I watched and Bardo didn’t touch it. You need to eat something if you want to get better. But first, let me see to your eye. I’m sorry if this is uncomfortable.”

Before I peel off the existing bandage, I pop some leaves in my mouth—they are slightly bitter, but they help prevent infection and scarring when applied under the bandage. I am gentle when I peel off the bandage, and I’m surprised at how well the sutures have held up. Using some alcohol, I dab off a little drainage. Because I’m caring for his wound, I have to lean in and get quite close to him. I see his nose twitch subtly, as though he is smelling me. He smells nice, too.

“Sorry,” I apologize in advance, slurring my speech since my mouth is full of herbs, but he barely registers any pain. He is still watching me carefully.

I spit out the carefully mashed herbs from my mouth and then press them to his eye. He isn’t grossed out in the slightest—which is good since, for Ribika, this herb is the best way to heal wounds.

“What happened?” Rai asks.

“Excuse me?” My ears flatten at his direct question. “Um, nothing.”

“You smell different. What happened?”

He couldn’t _possibly_ smell the tiger cat on me. I mean, that incident happened an hour ago now. My ears flatten, my fur bristles, and that pale blue eye sharpens even more.

“N-nothing,” I stammer.

“You’re a terrible liar. What did he do to you? I smell him all over you.” He actually sounds angry—which is a bit concerning. He is in no state to get worked up.

“I’m fine,” I say, ignoring his question and continuing my work with the bandage. However, before I can get it in place, Rai sits up and pulls away. “I’m just applying a fresh bandage," I try to explain.

“Not until you tell me what happened.”

I exhale deeply and look away. That penetrating gaze of his unnerves me. How can he even tell something happened?

“I’m fine. It wasn’t anything unexpected or unwarranted.”

“That isn’t what I asked. Was it consensual?”

That soft question makes me glare up at him, meeting his gaze. He’s sitting up straight and is taller than me since I’m also sitting on the bed. He doesn’t look like he’s asking just to embarrass me. It looks like he is really concerned. I narrow my eyes angrily—and then find tears rising to the surface. I glance away quickly to hide them. I can’t cry in front of him.

“Hey.” A gentle hand brushes the fur on my ears, and they flinch reflexively. “Tell me.”

“No, it wasn’t consensual,” I say softly. Rage starts to build quite suddenly in my body. “ _None_ of this is consensual! I didn’t _ask_ for any of this! I can’t do this.” A soft sob embarrassingly slips from my mouth, and I am completely ashamed.

“I’m sorry,” his low voice whispers—right into my ear. He must have leaned up to get a little closer, and he sounds so kind. My heart aches.

“No, it’s better than what would happen to me at the house,” I say.

“An old tiger forcing himself on you is better? What the _hell_ do they do to you there?”

I don’t say anything and shake my head.

“Please, let me reapply your bandage. The sutures have held well, but you feel hot. You need something to prevent an infection.”

“Let me see what you have there.”

I look where he’s gesturing—he’s nodding his chin at the medicines. After moving it to his reach, he pulls out several different leaves and a packet of powder and puts them in a bowl.

“Grind these up as fine as they can go and add them to a cup of tea or sake,” Rai says. “Sneak them in the old man’s drink. He’ll leave you alone.”

What is this? _Poison_? I look at the leaves—and they aren’t ones I usually mix nor ever take in _that_ dosage.

“He’ll be fine. He’ll just get tired about twenty minutes after drinking it and go to sleep.”

My heart lifts slightly. I’ve been worried about what the tiger’s plans are for me tonight—and the thought of him entering me while I’m still so sore is more than frightening.

“Maybe wait till you start cleaning up dinner.”

My ears flatten slightly. What if he tastes it? What if he discovers me drugging him? Wouldn’t I get in very big trouble? If _anything_ deserves a public punishment, poisoning my current client would qualify.

“Um, thanks for your concern. I-i just don’t think I can risk it.”

“He won’t taste it. He won’t feel anything but tired with this dose. You’ll be all right.”

I look at the leaves again.

“Go ahead, grind them up and put them to good use. You look like you could use some sound sleep.”

Glancing back at the silver cat, he lies back on the bed again. Again, I’m struck by his kindness. I enjoy watching him move. Even when he was sorting through the medicines, there's something captivating and beautiful about how he moves his hands. It’s a little confusing mixed in with that gruff tone, though. So I get to work on his bandage.

“I'll help you wash your hair and clean your fur tomorrow,” I say softly. “Before you eat, I’d like you to take some medicine to prevent infection, and I think you probably need a little more pain medication as well.”

Rai grunts again—and now I’m sure this is just how he is, sort of crabby and grumpy by default. Surely, I would be the same if I were in pain.

“Do you ache? Does your body hurt?”

“A little,” he replies, but his eye slides away from me. “I’m fine.”

“Well, take this anyway,” I insist, handing him a small packet of powder. He takes it and pours the contents in his mouth.

“It’s bitter.”

I can’t help but smile a little bit. I give him about twice the dose of pain medication than I did before.

“This is for pain. I’ll leave some extra if you need more. But chew these up before you eat.”

He grunts another soft reply. I walk over to the table and carry the tray to him.

“You should stay in bed if you can. And eat this—all of it.” I make sure to pour a fresh cup of water for him as well.

Rai sighs heavily—again as though I am inconveniencing him. It’s kind of cute.

“Wait a minute.” My sleeve is grabbed as I get up. I turn to look at him. “A song.”

My ears flatten again.

“I, um, I will get in trouble if I stay too long,” I say.

“I’ll take care of this medicine for you if you stay and sing. Just a little while. Sit.”

I sit down next to him on the bed and close my eyes. I’m feeling helpless and hopeless—but thankful for this small kindness from the silver cat. A soft vibration spills from me, filling the room with light. When I open my eyes, I notice thin streams of light wrapping around the silver cat—specifically around his face and the injured eye. He gasps slightly.

I wonder if I can heal with this song—and just when I wonder that the light pulses even brighter and Rai makes another soft sound, jerking away for a minute. Am I hurting him? I try to stop my song and it quiets, but he interrupts me, putting a hand on my shoulder.

“No—don’t stop. It’s good.”

While I sing, it feels oddly like my energy is slowly being sapped from me—just like it’s draining slowly, spilling out with my song. Rai has prepared the drugs and poured the mixture into the paper sleeve that held the powder for his fever. I am watching him move under the light and he looks much more comfortable.

I wonder what sort of thing this song is. As a Sanga, perhaps I’m sharing my power and energy with this silver cat. Once he’s finished, he folds up the envelope and puts it in my pocket, patting my chest gently, and I let the song fade out.

“Do you need anything else?” I ask, standing up—and then suddenly my vision grays out at the corners. My body feels oddly light and I sway slightly.

“Oy!” I hear the silver cat, but his voice echoes strangely.

When I next open my eyes, I’m on the floor, my head on Rai’s lap. He’s out of bed—right after I told him to stay put.

“You’re supposed to stay in bed,” I say softly.

“You passed out. Would you have rather I let you fall on the floor?”

“What?” I have no recollection of fainting.

“You’ve been out a few minutes.”

“Oh gods, I have to get back downstairs!" But my body will not move. My tail twitches and my ears flick in frustration.

“Just relax. You really must be a new Sanga. When you sing, you share your power and energy with those around you—and it’s exhausting till you can control it. You were already fatigued. You need to rest now.”

“I can’t!” I’m really afraid of Bardo—I don’t want him barging in and scolding me. Surely I will be punished if I don’t return to work right away! “Please! I need to go.”

“Go ahead and try,” Rai chuckles a little.

He stands up and pulls me up off the floor with him, setting me down gently on the bed. His sheets smell so nice—like fresh spring rain and clean grass—and I realize that is Rai’s scent. It’s so amazingly comforting. It smells like home. My heart throbs a little. I really can't stay here with him, even if I want to. But it’s useless. I can’t move. Frustration and fear build and mix in my body, and Rai pets my ears lightly.

“Relax. It can’t be helped. Your song is powerful. It really helped my pain. Just rest for now. I will explain when the old man comes up to find you.”

I don’t think any explanation will satisfy him, though. But what else can I do?

“You were only seeing to one of his guests as he ordered. I’m sure he will understand. You’re very compliant.”

“You should eat,” I say.

“You’re _also_ somewhat of a nag,” Rai says, smiling gently. He has a nice smile—and his fangs are strangely long and beautifully white.

“I wouldn’t have to nag if you would do what you were supposed to do. You’ve been out of bed and you haven’t eaten anything.”

“ _And_ you’re picky,” Rai says—and he’s one to talk if he won’t eat anything the tiger has made! It’s a little ridiculous—and despite my fear, I find it humorous.

My good humor doesn’t last long, however. Just when Rai finishes the stew and bread, there’s a knock at the door and it opens. Sure enough, it’s Bardo.

“Oy. What are you doing in here?”

Before I can even open my mouth and protest, a loud, intimidating growl spills out from the silver cat. The sound makes my skin crawl, I _think_ in fear. It's scary... but it's for my sake. So I'm confused by my feelings

“Your little rented kitten has been following your instructions. He has been seeing to one of your guests.” Rai's voice is low and hard—and it bristles my fur.

“Has he?” Bardo replies, honestly surprised that Rai is even talking to him.

“I asked him to help manage my pain with his song and he graciously complied. He’s used up all his energy, as you might imagine.”

“I see. Well. Do you need anything else?”

“I’d enjoy his company a little longer.”

“Other than that. His presence is needed downstairs.”

“The kitten can’t move,” Rai growls.

“I’m sure I can find something for him to do. And at least, I should get him out of your hair.”

“He’s fine right where he is. Since when do you rent boys from the local halfway houses?” The silver cat doesn't even try keeping the disdain from his tone.

Bardo glares at Rai, and my ears are flat and my tail drooping during this entire exchange. I have no idea what their history is—or why Rai would stay here if he dislikes Bardo so much. I wish a hole would open up in the ground and swallow me.

“Fine. I’ll take your tray and then come back for him. He has a job to do.”

“I can _smell_ you on him, old man. I’d never known you as one who had to _pay_ for it.”

Bardo bristles up his fur—his tail gets puffy and his ears look even bigger, but he doesn’t reply. Instead, he scoops up the dishes and the medicinal supplies and walks out, closing the door behind him.

I realize I’ve been holding my breath and I let out a sigh.

“Asshole,” Rai mutters.

“Why are you staying here, then?” I ask softly. “If you dislike him so much…”

“Well, I didn’t know he ran the place. This isn’t my usual inn, but it was closer and I needed rest right away. I couldn’t make it further. And then _someone_ forced a bunch of unwanted care on me.”

I bristle up my fur again.

“You were wounded!”

“At least I got a nice song or two out of it,” Rai says—and something in his voice has changed. It sounds almost sultry. But I don’t know him well enough to recognize that tone. However, he turns toward me and suddenly curls his body around me, holding me from behind. Something warm and damp touches my ear—his tongue?—and it’s a strange sensation. “And I don’t really mind a cute cat seeing to my care, even if he is unbelievably pushy.”

I huff softly—and I have to put up with his grooming. I’m slightly uncomfortable with the touch—but it doesn’t feel as intrusive as what I’ve experienced so far. This feels much more soothing than any other touch I’ve experienced in my life.

“Don’t forget to use that sedative. He’ll gladly take anything from you—make him some tea once the dining room closes,” he whispers softly. A little shiver rushes through my body when his voice sinks into my ears. I close my eyes for a moment.

I wish I could stay right here. What use am I going to be in the kitchen if I can’t move anyway?

“Do you know how long this will last?”

“What?”

“When will I be able to move again?”

“Oh, probably in half an hour at the latest.”

“Half an hour?!”

“Yeah, that song was much stronger than the last. You’re quite powerful. It’s enchanting.”

I don’t know how to reply to that, but soon there’s a second brisk knock at the door.

“All right, let’s get back to work, kitten,” Bardo says. I feel Rai’s fur fluff out around me when Bardo approaches, and the tiger throws a slightly confused look over my shoulder, probably at Rai. Bardo ignores his aggression, even as he growls, simply picking up my limp body and lifting me over his shoulder.

I flick my tail in discomfort, trying to keep the panic at bay. It helps that I can’t move, I guess.

“Thanks for the help—and the song, kitten,” Rai mutters softly. “Check on me before you turn in.”

“If he has time,” Bardo says, and then he carries me out of the room and closes the door. I feel his hand on my ass, squeezing me in an overly friendly way. “Huh. Who’d have thought?”

I don’t say anything as I’m carried helplessly down the stairs and into the kitchen. Bardo sets me down on the bench.

“So. I heard your song. What were you thinking?” The tiger’s voice is strained, I think.

“I-i, um, I was j-just complying w-with his request!” I stammer. “I-i thought I w-was supposed to obey…”

“Hmph. But now, what use will you be like this?”

“I’m sorry,” I mumble softly. My chin is grabbed suddenly—I can’t move my head, but I have been avoiding his gaze.

“No matter. I have an idea,” Bardo says, leaving me on the bench. “I’ll just say, either way, you’ll be serving the food tonight.”

My fur bristles up for a moment and I get very nervous. I can’t see what Bardo is doing—Gen is still here making preparations, though, so I’m afraid I’m in for some sort of punishment or humiliation. But I have no idea how I will be serving anyone in this state.

And then the tiger approaches the bench again, a bowl in his hand.

“Now. Shall we get started, kitten? You’re _quite_ the little dish yourself, so this will be perfect.”

To my horror, he goes right for the sash on my robe and unties it—using fast, business-like movements. He strips off my robe as well, lifting me up and pulling my clothes from my body, leaving me naked on the bench in the kitchen.

“ _Please_!” I am horrified and ashamed, blushing fully and unable to move or cover myself. I feel tears spring to my eyes and I’m wondering what sort of plans he has for me.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll be the apple of every diner’s eye this evening,” Bardo coos softly, and he arranges me on the bench, turning me to my side and propping one of my knees up with a towel and lifting my arm behind my neck as a bolster. I really cannot move or resist. “Now don’t cry, kitten. I haven’t hurt you. And here, chew these.”

A few leaves are shoved into my mouth—they taste a little like mint and almost immediately, I start to feel more relaxed. I have my eyes squeezed closed, so I am surprised again when a warm cloth wipes down my body. Bardo is sponging off my skin with water, I think—but why would he need to do that?

“You have such a nice shape,” he purrs softly.

I didn’t need to wonder, though, as soon as something sticky is brushed on my bare skin. When I look, Bardo is spreading something viscous and sticky all over my body. It looks like honey—and sure enough, it smells like honey, too. It drips into every crevice, under my arms, between my legs—and it does _not_ feel at all pleasant.

“Have a taste, kitten. It suits you.”

“What—?”

“Now hush,” Bardo says, pushing a finger coated with honey to my lips. I can’t and don’t resist—hoping this makes me look compliant. “This will be beautiful. I think you’ll be the centerpiece.”

My fur bristles at his words—but I can’t do anything to help myself. Even if I could, I shouldn’t. If I did, I would most likely suffer some other punishment. But centerpiece? What does he even mean?

After the honey is applied, he starts arranging sliced fruits on my body—covering my privates, my ass, my hips, my nipples, my navel—layering them like scales on a fish. It feels strange to have food stuck to me. Fortunately, he leaves my ears and tail alone. I cannot keep them still.

“Normally, I’d want you completely still, but I think waving your tail so wantonly is quite sexy, too,” Bardo comments. “Now, keep in mind, there’s no need to be embarrassed. You will be quite well covered—at least till the guests help themselves.”

Suddenly, I realize exactly what he has in mind. I’m the serving dish for the dessert. As soon as the fruit is stuck to me, a small pastry bag filled with whipped cream is used for accenting—both the fruit and my skin. I’m particularly ashamed when I feel the cream covering my dick—and I should state I’m not currently in a state of arousal, so this is just humiliating and embarrassing.

“Ah, don’t worry about this, kitten.” He touches my dick gently and I can’t do a thing to protect myself. “I’d guess that the catnip I gave you should be working soon. You can feel your body warming up a little, yes? You will be gorgeous when you come to full attention.”

That’s simply mortifying!

“Y-you c-can’t…”

“I can’t what, kitten? I can do whatever I like with you. I paid good money for your help, which _includes_ serving the guests for dinner. If you so thoughtlessly exhausted yourself singing, well… I find other ways to use your services. I think you’ll be quite popular.”

Bardo gruffly asks Gen to stop what he’s doing and help move the bench to the dining room. Thankfully, no guests have arrived yet—but they carry the entire bench with me on it to the center of the dining room. I will be the focus of the meal—and also when diners enter the room, of course, I’m the first thing they will see.

I still can’t move, and even my tail and ears have been slowing down. If he really did give me catnip, surely it will make me even more relaxed. What other side effect does it have? I remember Verg mentioning I'd ingested it just before his first lesson.

Once I’m set up in the dining room, Bardo comes back and places a few serving utensils next to my body on the bench and resting on my hips.

“Now, let’s see about a finishing touch.” To my humiliation, he shows me a banana which he covers in honey. Then it disappears from my view—and my ass cheeks behind pried apart. I feel so undignified! “Hmm. You are quite new to this activity. You’re still so pink back here—are you sore, kitten?”

I give a quite protesting squeak when I feel him pushing a finger inside me just below my tail, coating my insides with honey.

“But _so_ warm—you’ll melt the honey right away.”

Next, he works the banana most of the way inside my body, letting part of it stick out, I assume—though I can’t see it and it is painful. I can’t resist or move. At least my body is relaxed—but again, I’m reminded of last night’s excessive activity and I shudder in fear.

“This gives me all sorts of wonderful ideas,” Bardo says. He shows me two peaches—whole peaches—and I immediately protest.

“Please! D-don’t!” Those will hurt so much more—and he can’t possibly think of adding them to the banana!

“Oh hush, I haven’t hurt you yet, darling. These are just decorations.” He places the peaches on either side of the banana, pressed up against my ass. I’m so ashamed that tears really do spill down my face.

“There we go. Lovely. Except… what’s this? Tears? You are fetching when you weep, but I want you to be a little more cheerful. Have a little more.” Bardo pushes a few more leaves into my mouth. “Be a good boy and chew those up—and know that you will be the talk of Ransen tomorrow. What a sight!”

My cheeks and ears are flushing—and my embarrassment doubles when the first guest enters the room. I recognize him as the first guest I served this morning—the one who tried to trap me in his room. I accidentally meet his eye when he first enters and his pupils blow wide and dark.

“Welcome,” Bardo says. “You’re fortunate enough to be in for a special dessert this evening. Please, have a seat.”

I cast my eyes down and then end up closing them—unwilling to meet anyone’s eyes as they enter. Part of this feels completely unreal—and I indugle in that feeling, catching it like the end of a silk thread and letting it unravel. At some point—and this might be a side effect of the catnip—I allow my mind to float away from my body, which aids in how uncomfortable it is when diners start approaching me and serving themselves. I am sure someone is licking my toes—and I ignore it, pretending like I’m not even here, but disgust still shivers through my body nonetheless.

Lots of appreciative sounds spill from the guests when they enter—someone mentions I’m the perfect eye candy with the approaching season. I wish I could plug my ears, but they only flatten against my head helplessly. Again, I find myself wishing the ground would just suck me up.

Shortly after most of the tables are filled, Bardo makes a brief announcement.

“Welcome to dinner, where we feed your bodies and your souls. Let this little dish serve you dessert—and why wait till _after_ dinner? Life is short, so help yourselves!”

I feel a few more tears slip down my cheeks, but soon even that is too much. I can see a few tears sparkling on my lashes, but I mostly keep my eyes closed. It’s so incredibly uncomfortable to feel strangers’ fingers touching me, playing with the damned banana and peaches behind me, and messing with me with those utensils. Someone grabs my dick with tongs. It isn’t painful at this point—but I can think of nothing at the moment except the small packet of herbs in my yukata. I hope Bardo doesn’t find it. More than anything, I want him to ingest them and fall over—dead would be fine at this point.

As the catnip starts working, even once I am able to wiggle my toes again, I don’t feel like moving. And the touch starts to feel less intrusive and almost welcome, even as horrifying as it is. I can’t stand the feeling of being aroused when I am also being humiliated and treated like a piece of furniture.

In some ways, this is worse than my sleeping beauty debut at Halfway last night. Then, I really couldn’t help myself at all. And now, I am keeping my body still and relaxed partly of my own volition—more and more as the paralysis wears off and the catnip works better and better.

Some stranger licks my hip and my belly—licking off the whipped cream and honey from my skin—and he even goes as far as licking my cock in the middle of the dining room. I keep my eyelids fluttered shut and ignore the people around me. Most treat me like an inanimate object—which is painful and hurtful—but those who speak to me in low, sexy voices about what they’d like to do to me upstairs after dinner are even worse.

About halfway through the evening, the catnip has taken its full effect, I realize I can’t close my eyes without thinking of Rai. I can’t get the image of the gorgeous silver cat out of my mind. He’s stuck to the backs of my eyelids like glue. I can almost feel the fur in my ears move to the soft murmuring whisper of his voice. It’s not unwelcome—in fact, in some ways, the physical memory of his touch on my ears and my shoulder is a pleasant distraction that gradually warps into fantasy.

Unfortunately, the more time passes, the more elaborate the fantasy becomes and my body becomes even more aroused. It makes the strangers’ touching feel less unpleasant—even when the banana is shifted slightly.

I start returning to myself about fifteen minutes before dinner ends. A few remaining guests have lingered to eat the remaining fruit from my body—and I hear Bardo laughing heartily about me being the perfect server. Anger burns in my chest as I start to become more aware, and shame floods me when I start to be aware of exactly how naked and exposed I am.

Several times during the evening, Bardo has warned me to keep still if I knew what was good for me. So even when the last guest leaves the room, I don’t move. From what I can see, I think most of the fruit is gone, and most of the cream as well. My eyes are half-lidded, just so I don’t flinch—and I see Bardo walking up to me slowly. We are in the dining room alone since Gen has already gone home. To my surprise, he lowers his mouth to my navel and starts licking.

Doesn’t he know how many other cats have already licked me there? But he moves his mouth away from my cock and to my hip and then back toward my ass. The banana moves around a little and he moves the peaches as well.

“You did perfectly—charmed the guests just as I’d hoped. This was such a hit, perhaps we should do it again.” He pulls the banana out and it feels weird—a huge relief, for one—but my insides are burning slightly. I’m not sure if it’s the honey or something else, but it is _terribly_ uncomfortable. “So… kitten. I’d love to lick the rest of this off your lush little body, but you still have dishes to do. So come along.”

My ears flat, he pulls me up to sit—I nearly sit on the peach and my fur bristles. He laughs.

“Ah, we could try the peach next time, if you like it.”

I _don’t_ like it—not at all—but I don’t say anything. I keep my eyes low—hiding the blush I’ve had on my face for the past two hours. When we enter the kitchen, he ties an apron around my naked body when he sees me looking for my clothes. I’m embarrassed to wear it alone—but it’s better than nudity.

The kitchen is a disaster, and I am _exhausted_. Plus, Bardo is breathing down my neck and keeps touching my ass and my tail. I try not to make eye contact, but he is leering at me. Disgust piles up in my gut and then I remember the sedative.

“I have to use the bathroom,” I say, keeping my voice soft.

“Do you? Well, hurry it along.”

I excuse myself and head toward the bathroom, quickly stopping in the bedroom. Fortunately, my yukata is there—draped over the back of a chair. And my apron has a pocket, thank the gods. I shove the drugs into my pocket and dart to the restroom. I don’t really have to go, but I wash my hands just the same and wipe down a little of the stickiness from my body. Between my thighs feels utterly disgusting.

After I hurry back to the kitchen, I get to work on the dishes. It’s an hour’s worth of work, I think, and so I glance back at Bardo.

“May I make you some tea? You’ve been on your feet all evening.” I flutter my lashes coyly—and deliberately—keeping it shy and seductive at the same time.

“That would be nice. Also, make some for the grumpy cat upstairs. Check on him once you’ve finished here. Then… _we_ can get down to business.”

I know exactly what he means by “business,” but I feel slightly smug since I have those drugs waiting for him.

It’s easy to slip the drugs into Bardo’s teacup, and I ask, “Would you like to add a little brandy as well? You’ve worked so hard today.”

“What a sweetheart you are! I’m so pleased with you. If I’d known, I’d have started you on catnip earlier. Thank you.”

I pour a little brandy into the tea and then hand him the cup. He takes a seat and watches my bare ass—my tail swaying nervously and moving the apron tie back and forth against my thighs—as I finish the dishes. Just before I finish, I put on another kettle. I wipe down the sink and prepare the medicinal herbs and supplies on a tray, then I add a little cream and sugar once the tea is brewed.

“M-may I please, um…”

“What is it, kitten? Are you hungry?”

“I am a little, but, um… I’m afraid to appear before the guest like this. May I please put on my robe?”

“Aww, sweet. You _are_ innocent. You were just on display for every other guest in the dining room and yet you’re shy around him?” There’s a short pause. “Well, I don’t blame you. He is awfully gruff and demanding. And I suppose if I don’t want him to keep you, you ought to dress. Wipe yourself down quickly then go. I’ll be waiting for you in the bedroom, kitten.”

Bardo walks up to me and grabs my chin, kissing my lips firmly—possessively as if he owns me. It sends a shiver of revulsion through my entire body and I feel like I might be sick. Those drugs better work!

“Thank you, sir,” I say quietly. After hurrying to the bedroom, I wipe myself down quickly and slip on my robe, tying the sash. I have to return to the kitchen for the tray, and Bardo clicks his tongue when he sees me.

“What am I going to _do_ with you?” He walks up behind me—thankfully before I pick up the tray—and strips off my sash. He opens my robe and caresses me—from my nipples to my thighs—with both hands before draping the robe and retying it. “Much better.” He touches my nose lightly. “Go on, sweetheart. Just return to the bedroom. I’ll be waiting.”

He lifts his eyebrows suggestively and I lower my face. Surely he can’t think I’m _actually_ interested. Though—my cock is annoyingly erect and I am uncomfortable. But that doesn’t mean I want him to fuck me. I’m a little worried since he doesn’t seem much different and it’s been a good ten minutes I think since he finished his tea.

Heading upstairs quietly—I’m super nervous about attracting the attention of other guests who have just been treated to a free show of my body—I am relieved when I get to Rai’s door. I knock only once—quietly—then open the door and slip inside.

It smells _so_ nice in here. It smells clean and fresh—and there’s no trace of that metallic blood smell anymore. Also, it seems the last dose of medication I’ve fed him worked much better. I set the tray down on the table and walk over to his bed.

The large cat is curled up on the bed, his gorgeous fluffy tail wrapped around his waist. That tail is mesmerizing. A flash of heat pulses in my chest—almost painfully—when I notice. I reach out and touch it gently, running my claws through the silky fur. It feels like his hair. Just the very tip twitches slightly. Right now, this cat looks vulnerable. It makes something press hard in my chest, mixing with the heat. I also notice I have a lot of saliva in my mouth that I quickly swallow.

I have a job to do here, though. I press my hands at the base of his ears. He’s warm but not hot like he was, and he opens his eyes when we touch, pale lashes fluttering softly.

“Hi,” I murmur. “How are you feeling?” I feel a soft smile on my face—and I’m shocked that I can smile after the night I’ve had.

“Better. Still sleepy.” He gives his body a nice long stretch—and I try hard not to notice how the outline of his slender, muscular body stands out obvious between the loose fabric of his robe. It would be so easy to just touch him—and _my gods_ what am I thinking?!

A fresh blush fills my ears in an instant.

“So, I should change your bandage,” I say, moving over to the table quickly and getting the supplies I need.

Rai is just relaxed on the bed and he protests very little as I remove his bandage and clean the wound with antiseptic. He doesn’t even complain this time, watching me chew the herbs I’ll be putting under the bandage.

“Did it work?”

“What?” My mouth is full so it sounds strange. I start packing the herbs against the sutures, being careful and gentle.

“The drugs. Is the old man sleeping soundly?”

“Um, he wasn’t yet—but it was only fifteen minutes ago that he finished the tea I made for him. I sure hope it works,” I mumble, then flatten my ears when I realize that Rai is a guest here. I suppose it might be expected that I serve him as well—and I don’t mean literally like I just served the rest of the guests.

“What happened? You smell like you were dunked in fruit salad.”

Again I’m a little surprised at his sense of smell.

“I, um, was made to serve dessert.”

“How? You couldn’t even move.”

“Well, I was, um, the container.”

“The container?” I remember Rai has had a lot of pain medication today as well. Maybe his mind isn’t as clear as it needs to be.

“Do you really need to know the details?”

“You don’t want to tell me?”

I shake my head, and a few tears spill from my eyes. I wipe them quickly—but I know he sees them.

“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to tease you. I was asking after your wellbeing.”

“I made it. It’s over. And gods, that sleeping potion had better work,” I mutter.

Rai is quiet while I reapply the bandage and then he sits up. I bring him the tea and the cookies I’ve brought up. The cookies were purchased, I’m sure, and I made the tea, but he doesn’t ask.

“Listen.”

I look up—feeling his gaze on me. His eye is surprisingly sharp.

“You don’t belong here. You are a power genuine Sanga.”

“I don’t want to be here,” I say.

“Taking care of the sick isn’t your calling?”

“N-no, that’s n-not what I meant—”

“I know. I’m kidding. I know what you meant.”

“… But it’s not like I have a choice or anything. My alternative is getting a claw pulled, and even that won’t happen till after I pay back my debt.”

“You had a debut? At the house?”

I nod, shuddering even as I remember. Though I wonder… how would I have felt if _he_ had been there? Why does he feel so different to me?

“I’m sure you’ve made back everything you owe them. Perhaps someone else could buy you from the house.”

I look up at him.

“Why would they do that? I’m a terrible whore.”

Rai smiles—just a small, gentle smile.

“I wouldn’t know. And I wouldn’t be too fast to judge. Those things can be learned.”

He chuckles softly when I growl softly and flatten my ears.

“Again, I’m teasing. You don’t belong there. You are powerful—and I could train you.”

“To what?” I’m slightly appalled.

“To sing. Unless you wanted me to teach you something else.”

“You need more medication I think,” I say, standing up, but he grabs my arm. His grip is surprisingly powerful.

“I’m a Touga. I will train you to control your song. You can sing for me. On my hunts.”

I appreciate the thought—but I can’t seem to control my mouth.

“You are in no shape to do any such thing. You won’t even comply with my instructions.”

“What? I stayed in bed—even though I heard such excitement downstairs. I was tempted.”

I blush again.

“Thank you,” I whisper. "You are very kind. But really, you ought to focus on getting better first.”

I try to stand up again to get his tray, but he pulls me toward him—just that single arm is powerful enough to pull my whole body right up against his chest. I worry about all the wounds on his body that might open up or the strain he is putting on the stitches under that bandage, but I hardly can finish my worry and I certainly can’t say anything about it, since he immediately starts grooming my ears.

“Such big ears—soft and fluffy and plush—and pink.” His whisper sinks deep into my ears, making them quiver. It’s actually a pleasant feeling. I feel so confused.

“Um…”

He doesn’t respond; he just continues grooming my ears as though I am the most precious thing in the world. It is slightly violent and rough—but I feel like he _sees_ me. He isn’t treating me like a whore or an object or a fucking _serving_ dish. He is treating me like a cat—and a valuable one, at that. My heart hurts when I do pull away.

He allows my movement—I realize he released me earlier today, too. He has a lot of strength.

“I need to finish my work downstairs.”

“…”

“I will check on you in the morning. And don’t forget to take your medication if you need it.”

“…”

“I need to be sure Bardo actually made it to bed,” I try explaining.

“…”

I stand up and my hand is grabbed. I’m not pulled back to the bed, but I meet that icy blue eye. His pupil is slightly dilated—probably from the medication—but he looks like he is perfectly serious.

“If you find you need some comfort… tonight… or any other time…”

My ears and tail twitch slightly.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“No. You _aren’t_. You’re going to _stay_ in that bed.”

“So bossy.” Rai smiles a little. “No wonder you were sent here if you spoke to your benefactors in that tone.”

“I have no benefactor,” I snap.

“Yet.”

Is he really being serious about taking me with him? I can hardly imagine. I don’t dare hope.

“Sleep,” I say softly. I can’t help touching his soft ears and his silky hair, and he grabs my hand and kisses it. Such a gentle touch—it feels respectful. I pick up his tray and the used supplies and head to the door.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he repeats.

I turn around and give him a soft smile.

“Lie down and go to sleep.”

“Like I said, so bossy. Even if I’m sleeping, though. If you need comfort, I’ll be waiting.”

I blush a little and I see his gaze flick to my ears. I duck my head in embarrassment, my heart throbbing hard in my chest and I escape back downstairs.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Konoe heads back downstairs to find that the sedative did work. He sleeps peacefully for half the night and wakes to a rather rough morning.
> 
> Trigger: Rape and non-con spanking.

When I get back downstairs, I find the kitchen empty and quiet. The entire first floor is silent. I finish up Rai’s dishes and wipe down the counters and then hesitate a moment. I worry that the sedative I slipped in the tiger’s tea might not have worked as well as I hoped, or worse—it didn’t work and he discovered what I tried to do. But he told me to find him in his bedroom, and I know he is serious about punishment after what he did to me this evening in the dining room.

I still feel gross and sticky and would like a bath—but I walk over to the bedroom and poke my head in first. To my utter relief, Bardo is sound asleep and snoring on the bed. He’s sprawled out over the bed diagonally, so there is no room for me—which isn’t disappointing in the least. My body feels light—and my head is almost dizzy with joy—and while I’m exhausted, I feel like a bath before bed.

I grab a towel and head out to the small shed in the back of the inn. There’s a freshwater stream that runs through the property, and this shed seems like a private place for a bath. The water is freezing, however, so I hurry it along. It’s cold enough outside to see my breath and I’m reminded of my time in the streets. Surely, it’s better to be at a place where I have some food (though I haven’t really eaten much today) and a place to bathe.

Although what is expected of me in exchange for the clean water and a place to sleep is a high price to pay, I think. I feel a little discouraged when I finish up, wrapping myself up in a towel since my clothes are sticky. I didn’t see any other clothes for me, either, so I wonder what to do. I think to wash my robe in the running water and leave it to dry overnight, though I’m really cold now, my hair damp and wearing only a towel.

At least the inn is nice and warm—and I look around for another robe I can wear to sleep while my current uniform dries. I find one and hang up my towel as well, running my claws through my hair quickly. I head back into the kitchen and take a roll and a piece of fruit for dinner—but the fruit doesn’t seem as appealing to me as usual. Kuims are my favorite. But somehow… all I can think about is that humiliation at dinner. It fills me with disgust—toward myself, mostly.

Pushing the thought from my head, I finish my food anyway and grab a drink of water. I figure I’d better at least be in that bedroom by the time the tiger wakes, or he will certainly suspect something. I mean, really, where else would I sleep?

_I’m not going anywhere._

My fur bristles up all at once—and the image of the silver cat appears in my mind. I can’t believe I’d consider such a thing. What was done to me because I was taking care of him—because I sang for him—was bad enough. What would happen to me if the tiger found me in his room tomorrow morning?

_If you find you need some comfort… tonight… or any other time… I’m not going anywhere._

I cannot believe I’m even considering it. I don’t know the silver cat at all, except that he is weaker than usual because of his injury. Still, my skin shivers slightly when I remember the power behind those arms that pulled me close to him. And I can’t think of his arms without thinking about his chest—and then the memory of his smell flashes through me. Fresh, spring rain—he smells so clean. All that soft silky hair and his fur… what I wouldn’t give for the comfort of that warm fluffy tail wrapping around me…

And oh my god, what is _wrong_ with me?! I can’t believe I am fantasizing about a stranger touching me—not after everything else that has been done to me in the past few days. I must be in some kind of shock or suffering from trauma.

I stop hesitating. I cannot take any further risks. Instead, I head back to the tiger’s bedroom, finding him still sound asleep. I don’t want to sleep with him. I don’t want anything to _do_ with him. So instead, I curl up on the floor and start to groom myself.

It’s uncomfortable, but at least it's warmer than outside and it’s got to be better than sleeping with the cat who has been scolding me and threatening to punish me all day. And also… who displayed me so vulnerably during dinner… and thinking about that won’t help me sleep now.

I’m really exhausted. Physically, I’m even more spent than after that scavenger hunt. I’m not as sore nor in as much pain, but I’m easily as tired out. After a quick grooming of my fur, I manage to drift off to sleep and I sleep soundly and dreamlessly.

At least for most of the night. After I’ve been asleep for some time, I do have a dream.

I dream of the silver cat. I remember how his voice felt in my ears—that’s how the sound affected me. I _felt_ his voice; I didn’t only hear it. It vibrates so nicely. In my dream, I am in his room, sitting on his bed next to him, and he pulls me into his powerful arms, stroking my fur and my hair. Sometimes his hand caresses my neck and spine, slipping ever closer to my tail.

It should be a slightly uncomfortable dream—since I don’t think I _like_ anyone touching me in a sexual way. But for some reason, I don’t feel anything like disgust. Maybe because it feels like I have chosen to be here—with him. I tip my chin up to meet that pale blue eye when his hand touches my cheek, and he kisses me—softly and gently.

A wonderful warmth spreads through my body and I feel myself purring. He feels so nice—his hair is smooth and wonderful—I notice it is clean and shiny in my dream, too, and it feels plush, like his fur. I am toying with his tail, running my fingers through the long fur. It’s so thick and lovely and I have the urge to groom it.

Of course, I can’t with him kissing me—and soon, he pulls me down to the bed on my side. I can feel his body touching me—and in this dream, I’m wearing the uniform I had on earlier today and he is dressed in a robe. But I can feel the warm temperature of his skin even through the fabric.

Suddenly, the gentle kissing changes a little—and quite startlingly. I can feel a hand slipping through the fold of the yukata as the other gently unties the sash. I protest softly—a soft meow slips from my mouth—and I am not sure I want him to touch my bare skin.

_It’s all right. This is only a dream. Just go with it._

I don’t fight him off and my uniform slips off my shoulders. His body is pressed so close to mine that I can hardly tell what his hands are doing—but one seems to be stroking the base of my tail and the other is feeling up my ass.

I know that Rai hasn’t touched me this way before in real life—while he has licked my ears and touched my hands, he hasn’t forced himself on me. But this dream somehow feels different. While it’s arousing, the touch is frightening and feels oddly familiar. There’s something weirdly familiar with how he is groping my ass.

I am aroused, however—and become even more so, letting another soft sound escape my mouth when I feel him brush his fingers over my cock. Goosebumps cover my skin—a mix of desire and mounting fear are building quickly in my body.

Part of my mind wanders… this is only a dream. But I can’t help wondering if I will ever feel sex without fear. It seems the two feelings are glued together in my mind. I worry also that I might, at some point, begin to respond sexually when I am afraid, and the thought makes me uncomfortable.

“Wait,” I whisper softly, following a sigh. “Please… not so fast…”

“Shhh.”

My ears bristle and something inside my mind shifts. I think I might be waking up, but this almost feels real. As if my dream has come to life and I can’t get out of it.

“Please—don’t—”

“Just relax, kitten. I’ll make you feel good.”

That’s when I notice it _isn’t_ Rai’s voice I hear. I open my eyes, and I am in a bed—and I am sure I went to sleep on the floor.

“Ah, you’re adorable—talking in your sleep. Responding like this in your sleep. I’m sure you were frustrated last night—all those people touching you, stroking you, licking you. And after all that you slept on the floor instead of waking me. I am very sorry I couldn’t continue our lesson from the afternoon. I must have been more tired than I thought.”

Shit—this is _Bardo_. I am in bed with Bardo. And he is very much awake. I’m still groggy but I try to fight him off.

“Now, now. I told you to relax. You’ll want to keep your voice down, too. If you don’t comply, you know it’s only a few hours before the daily punishment at the square. And if you think a public flogging will keep you from your duty, you are quite mistaken. If I were you, I’d keep calm and relax. You’ll be much more comfortable. I’m trying to help you.”

Horror and fear flood me in waves—and I start to tremble uncontrollably. I’m quickly moved to my stomach and pinned against the bed by his much larger body. Also, I have quite a serious erection and I am ashamed of it.

“Please,” I beg again—quietly. I don’t want to be flogged, but I really don’t wish to be raped either! I don’t understand how this has suddenly become my life!

“Don’t be so coy, kitten. You can’t expect me to ignore you after a day like yesterday. You were flaunting your shapely little ass, swishing your hips and swaying that tail—all day long. Seeing you displayed so gorgeously—covered in sweets and fruit—and I know you aren’t comfortable. It will be much better for you if you let me relieve you.”

 _Relieve me?_ At this point, I wonder if a flogging might be better. I will not accept that this is my place now! This can’t be my sole function!

My tail is pulled up by the base and his fingers push inside me. My ass is still sore from my debut, and the idea that he is about to do what I think he is about to do terrifies me. But if I disobey, I will be punished. If I resist, I will be punished. If I don’t relax and submit, I’m sure he will hurt me even more and then punish me afterward. Either way, he is going to do what he wants to do!

“Please—please,” I beg softly. “I-i will serve you, um, with m-my mouth again—j-just please, don’t do this!”

“You won’t get used to it or better at it if you don’t practice a little. And yes, I’m afraid you may experience some pain just because you’re so small—at least till your heat is upon you. But you will learn to enjoy it. Enjoying it like the blue-haired cat does—that’s what makes him so interesting. Surely, you don’t want to be the whore those who like to force others choose, do you?”

When I don’t respond, he pinches the fleshy part of my butt with his other hand.

“Do you?”

“Um, n-no, sir.” My ears are completely flat against my head and my tail is still trying to cover my entrance—but it’s useless. I can feel his fingers trying to spread me open—and it’s painful but not as bad as it was just a moment ago.

“Now then, just relax and enjoy. You served me so well earlier I wanted to return the favor. I promise you’ll enjoy it.”

“I don’t want it!” I cry out, louder than I intend.

“Are you resisting me? I asked you to keep your voice down, kitten. If you don’t relax and comply with my wishes right now, I will force you _and_ you will also experience the humiliation of a public punishment later this morning. So choose wisely.”

Tears spill down my face—I’m frustrated, afraid, angry—and I feel so fucking helpless and vulnerable! I _know_ I’m going to have to submit to this cat. I don’t have to like it, but I’m going to have to submit. My stomach roils uncomfortably and I’m afraid I might be sick. But I get very still. No, more like my body freezes.

I am about to be raped—again. It hurts my chest terribly—and unlike the night of my debut, I am going to have to allow it. I won’t be able to fight back. I just have to lie here and take it. I _hate_ this!

Trying my best to suppress my tears, I try to relax my body just a little bit. The more I relax, the more my tears flow, and my chest hitches in soft sobs.

“Your body is better—but I’m not really doing anything to hurt you. Are you really such a prideful creature?”

“Mmm.” I can’t think of anything to say, so I bite the inside of my lip.

“I could perhaps give you a little incentive. I don’t really want to do this when you’re crying for no reason. It’s not very fun for me. And you need to learn that this is all about pleasing your clients.”

He abruptly pulls away from me.

“Listen. Go into the kitchen and fetch me a wooden spoon. You have thirty seconds.”

I can’t believe it—and I glare up at him.

“Hmph,” he chuckles softly. “What a face! Go. Now. You know what’s at stake.”

I lift my body heavily from the bed and head to the door.

“Thirty seconds, kitten. Hurry!”

A shiver shoots down my spine, but I do comply. I run into the kitchen—I don’t want to be seen running naked through the lobby, but it’s still early enough so the sun isn’t out yet. But what if a guest is downstairs?!

Fortunately, I don’t see anyone, and I head into the kitchen, looking through the utensils. When I grab the wooden spoon, I know I am fetching the implement for my own punishment, and I feel sick to my stomach again. Just for a second, I think of making a break for it—out the back door and into the forest… but I’m naked. I have no money. I know no one. And I know that heading back into the street displaying a brand and a piercing will not bode well for me. So I’m forced into the role of an accomplice in my own torture.

Hurrying back to the bedroom, I enter—and I’m sure it’s been less than half a minute, but Bardo doesn’t look very pleased. He’s sitting on the side of the bed. Fresh tears spill down my face.

“Please—I-i w-will obey! Please—give me one more chance!”

“I already gave you a chance, kitten. Now come over to me, please. Give me the spoon.”

I hand it to him, feeling my ears blush.

“You’re really sweet. I think if we can break down this unbearable pride of yours, you’ll fare much better, kitten. Climb up over my lap.”

I don’t have a choice! I don’t really understand why I’m getting punished—I haven’t done anything!

My chin is touched gently and his sharp amber gaze meets mine, his eyebrows lifted.

“I just want to soften you up a little. I can’t have you weeping every time I touch you. That’s no fun for anyone. So, I figure I’ll _give_ you something to cry about first and you can get rid of these tears. And then the pleasure to come will be so much more welcome.”

He really isn’t speaking unkindly, I notice. There’s nothing of that sadistic tone I heard at the house, really. It’s so strange. But I still don’t want to be spanked. This is a horrible way to start the day.

But I don’t have a choice—and the spoon comes down against my bare skin again and again—no warm-up—just hot, focused pain lights up my ass and thighs as he scatters the blows up and down. He even spreads my cheeks apart slightly, spanking the tender skin between my cheeks, and does the same with my thighs—spreading them so he can spank the unprotected skin there.

I do cry—almost right away—and am sobbing loudly by the time he’s finished. But I don’t resist. I try to keep my body as relaxed as possible and as much as I want to reach my hands back to protect myself, instead, I dig my claws into the wood floor.

Once he’s finished, he lets his hands run gently up and down my hot skin. I still am sobbing, but more quietly now, trying to get myself under control.

“There. Isn’t that better? Don’t you feel ready to submit now?”

“Y-yes, sir,” I stammer softly, still trying to catch my breath.

“Then lie down on the bed, please.”

I do as he asked—a little surprised to find my legs are weak and my knees are shaking. It feels good—actually pleasant—to lie down on the bed. My legs are pulled roughly, however, to the edge of the mattress, leaving me feeling vulnerable and exposed.

“You sure have lovely skin. And damn, if you don’t flush just perfectly,” he whispers, stroking my tail gently. “Now. Just relax for me, kitten. You can trust me. When I say you will enjoy it, you _will_ enjoy it.”

I swallow thickly, squeezing my eyes shut, but I try to keep my body as relaxed as possible—even when I feel his fingers pressing back inside me. He has something on his fingers—something cold, an oil or a lubricant of some sort. It doesn’t make me feel like Verg’s did, though—but I’m still ashamed of my persistent hard-on. Even the spanking didn’t diminish it any.

“Relax your legs, too. I can see you trying to squeeze your thighs closed.”

I obey immediately—I hadn’t realized I was anything but relaxed—but I do want to get this over with as quickly as possible. I also let my face rest on the mattress and I close my eyes, hoping to shut out as much of my surroundings as I can. It has the effect of making what Bardo is doing to me even more obvious. He has three fingers inside of me now, and I feel my stomach tightening up and becoming uncomfortable.

Some fabric rustles behind me and the sound makes my ears twitch. My fur is stroked gently.

“There’s a good boy. Now, just relax as much as you can. It will get easier the more you do it.”

Bardo’s voice is heated and I feel him pressing his dick against me—but instead of pushing it straight in, he drags his length between my cheeks. It makes a vulgar, squishing, wet sound that sends another shiver down my back.

I’m definitely afraid, but my erection still hasn’t flagged. To my surprise, he starts pushing inside me while simultaneously wrapping his fingers around my cock. I sigh—despite myself—because the touch does feel good.

At least until my body is stretched open. I expect some pain—and while he has relaxed me somewhat, it wasn’t nearly enough to accommodate him. I know exactly how big he is, too—I had his dick in my mouth about twelve hours ago. So of course it’s painful. The further he advances inside me, the more it hurts, but I work as hard as I can to stay relaxed. I know from my experience with Verg that fighting will make it even more painful.

A soft sob escapes my lips before I can tighten them. I _hate_ this. I don’t know if I hate the sexual touch more or the invasion of something foreign into my body or the fact that my body stays just as aroused as it was, thanks to how he is handling me.

“Good boy, just like that,” Bardo purrs softly into my ear. “Just relax and it will start to feel even better soon. You’re even tighter than I expected, kitten. You feel perfect. Surely, you’ll be popular with customers.”

I don’t like listening to his commentary. It’s embarrassing and makes me feel even more humiliated. I don’t know what to do to make him stop, though.

“Shh. Just relax,” he says, once he is fully inside my body. My chest is heaving now. Though I try to relax and stay relaxed, I’m a little surprised at how hard my breath is coming. Panting seems to help the pain, though. “I’ll start real slow and let you adjust.”

My claws dig even further into the mattress, snapping several worn threads on the sheets. _Just hurry it up_ , I think. But with Bardo’s smooth movements, rocking his hips slow to start and then pulling out a little more each time and his hand caressing my dick, my heart turns over in my chest.

Bardo seems to be changing his movement a little—and all at once, he drags his cock over that weird spot inside me. It’s too late for me to prevent a sexual moan from escaping my mouth when he hits me where I feel it the most. It still hurts—like sex with Verg—but now I also feel pleasure. Bardo hums in satisfaction.

“There we go. See what I mean?”

He makes the same movement and I start to feel desperate very quickly. In truth, I was already heavily aroused from that dream I was having. I squeeze my eyes closed—and try my best to imagine that it’s the silver cat touching me like this. If it were him… he’d lick my ears, too. I might even like it...

“Let it all out. Don’t hold back your voice, kitten.”

Hearing him say those words makes me embarrassed and I try to purse my lips to prevent anything else from leaking out. The result is a loud purr mixed with my half-suppressed sighs and gasps—and I’m sounding even more obscene than before.

Bardo uses the transparent liquid dripping from my cock to make his movements even smoother. It feels amazing. And then he grabs my tail with his other hand, right at the base, sending an almost painful squeeze through it and into my back. I gasp and my vision suddenly goes blank—right along with the anxiety and fear I’m feeling in my mind.

Pleasure courses through me—all at once—spilling from my groin into the rest of my body. I even release my claws from the sheets and let out a satisfied moan, relaxation following the extreme wave of pleasure. I can feel him spilling inside me—hot and wet—filling me up as he lets out a loud purring moan.

The minute I feel him release inside me, my dazed brain comes back online. I feel utterly used—and horrible about it. I feel complicit in that act—I hate that I was aroused enough to come. In some ways, it was much less humiliating when I was paralyzed and unable to prevent anything from happening to me. This feels like my body has betrayed my heart, and it aches deep in my chest. My stomach turns over again and for a second, I'm sure I'm going to throw up.

To my surprise—before the tiger pulls his length out of me, my song spills suddenly almost like vomit. It sounds like a musical version of heartbreak mixed with grief and disgust—and it rings out loud and bright in the room.

“Wha—?” The tiger seems surprised and pulls out of me. I keep my eyes squeezed tightly, but it feels weird when what was taking me is no longer inside my body. “What is this? What are you?”

I’m not sure why he’s so surprised—I’m sure he heard me sing for the silver cat upstairs. He rebuked me for it—certainly—and punished me for it as well. Didn’t he realize what it was then?

“You _are_ a Sanga,” Bardo says. “I wondered when I heard you singing earlier. But I thought it couldn’t be. Virus and Trip don’t have a clue what to do with a Sanga.”

As if _he_ does, I think. He’s a fucking innkeeper, for crying out loud. What the hell would he know? I feel my remaining energy seeping out of my body and soon, the song fades.

“That was beautiful,” Bardo says. “You are a genuine Sanga—and you sing with your body. Can you do that on demand?”

My ears flatten again, but I can’t move at all. I’m pulled up on the bed and pressed against the tiger's chest. His skin is damp with sweat. He smells a little like cloves and cooking spices, but it’s not horrible. I don’t like how my fur sticks to him, though.

“Is this what you did for our injured guest upstairs?” He asks, running claws through the fur on my ears and keeping my cheek pressed against his chest.

“H-he asked me to sing for him,” I reply softly. “I th-thought you s-said I should h-help him…”

“I did. But don’t sing for him again. It’s dangerous.”

“What if he asks me to?”

“Just don’t do it,” Bardo says, his voice sharp. “That guy already has plenty of strength. He doesn’t need any of your power to add his own.”

“I-i was j-just trying to help him heal,” I whisper.

“You can heal others with your song?” Bardo asks.

“I-i didn’t know if I could. But he asked me to, and it seemed to work.”

“Hmm. Well, thank you for helping him, but don’t sing for him again.”

I am slightly confused. I was only doing as I was asked. Now, I’m not sure what I will do if he asks me to sing again. Plus, I don’t always decide when to sing. Sometimes my song just comes out. I wonder if I should say something.

“Um, Bardo?” I say very quietly.

“What is it?” He is still petting me gently. It almost feels tender. It’s weird.

“J-just now, I didn’t sing on purpose.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, sometimes it just comes out,” I clarify.

“Well, don’t let it spill around that bounty hunter!” Bardo says, his voice sharp. “We should get up soon. It’s nearly time to start the day.”

He gets up and leaves me on the bed. I still can’t quite move yet—even if I try, my body doesn’t respond.

“Huh. You get paralyzed after singing? Maybe next time you should sing _first_. It might make it easier for you to submit.”

He gets dressed and I shut my eyes and rest. I have to rest a little. I don’t have much choice.

“I’ll leave you some clothes. Come into the kitchen once you can move and after you wash up.”

I can feel his cum dripping down in between my thighs. I hate the feeling. It makes my fur stand on end, and my skin feels disgusting. I can’t tell if I’m more disgusted by that tiger cat and what he did to me or my own response to it. And I have no choice but to let those feelings swirl around in my brain till I can move again.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How the hell is this already Chapter 17?!
> 
> After Konoe gets dressed, he gets started on his morning chores around the inn. There's an incident that makes his morning even worse.
> 
> Trigger: non-con spanking, embarrassment, shame, humiliation.

After about half an hour, I can move well enough to dress. Today, I’m wearing a two-piece outfit—a kimono-style top, which I manage to drape around me well enough to cover my chest, and a pair of soft pants, roomy in the legs and tight through the hips. The top is long enough to cover the snug fit on my butt, though.

Breakfast is ready to be brought up to the guest rooms when I finally make it to the kitchen. I hurt all over—deep inside me aches, my ass, through my hips, and just below my tail is sore. It’s nowhere as sore as I was yesterday morning, fortunately.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Bardo coos softly. “Ah, what’s this? That’s not how you wear that top.”

He approaches me in three long strides and unties my sash, opening the top and exposing my chest to Gen, who is standing right there. I _hate_ being manhandled this way! It makes me feel like an object and it’s shameful and degrading. But I do my best to keep my arms still and calm, though my fur bristles, my fangs bare and my claws draw.

“Look at you, so pretty all fluffy and cute. But I don’t want to want to see this aggression from you.”

I flatten my ears and desperately try to hide my claws and fangs, but I can’t. Bardo leans in close and whispers in my ear.

“Listen, kitten. Don’t you remember what happened this morning when you didn’t comply with what I asked?” He waves the wooden spoon gently in front of my face. It frightens me—and my fear is ever more apparent on my fur and claws. “Now, that’s the exact _opposite_ of what I’m asking of you.”

He chuckles to himself softly while he re-drapes my top and reties my sash. He also squeezes my ass gently and I wince as quietly as I can.

“Now, go on. Before the breakfast gets cold.”

I grab two trays and carry them out of the kitchen, trying to keep my tail in close to my body. Bardo slaps my ass again on the way out, making me flatten my ears and sending me slightly off balance. But I feel every step as I carry the trays upstairs. My entire body aches!

The guest who bothered me yesterday morning (and also spent some time helping himself last night at dinner) is waiting for me at the top of the steps.

“So. You look a little worse for wear this morning. Was the tiger too rough with you?”

I flush and do my best not to respond to his comment. I look down and murmur, “Your breakfast, sir.”

“ _Was_ he?”

The guest is insisting and I glance up at him. He’s got short gray hair and fur and green eyes. If I don’t answer him, it will be rude. And I don’t want him to report my behavior to Bardo, but I have a lot of other guests to see to.

“I’m fine,” I say softly. “Please, let me get back to work.”

“You won’t be missed for fifteen minutes, will you?”

My ears flatten.

“The breakfast will be cold by then.”

“Well, don’t think I’ve given up on you, kitten. Not after last night and what I heard this morning.”

I guess his room is directly above Bardo’s, so it’s possible he heard something—and the thought instantly fills me with disgust. He does let me leave, however. I finish delivering the rest of the breakfast trays, saving Rai’s for last. I will need to come back with medical supplies for him.

I knock softly and there’s no answer. It’s possible he’s asleep, so I try the door handle. The door is unlocked and I open it slowly, and I’m a little surprised to see a sharp pale blue gaze piercing me from the bed. He sits up when I come in, and I notice his bandage needs to be changed. Also, his hair is still a mess. I should try to wash it after I make him eat. If I can make him eat.

“Good morning,” I say softly, careful to avoid meeting that sharp gaze. “I have some food for you.”

Rai doesn’t reply so I look up at him, and I swear I see his nostrils twitch. I have to say something since he isn’t talking.

“Don’t worry. Gen made it this morning. You should eat something.”

“Didn’t it work?” Rai asks bluntly as I carry the tray over to the bed.

“What?”

“The sedative. It didn’t work? It should have worked.”

I nearly drop the tray but manage to catch it. I didn’t know he’d bring that up right away. Plus… how can he tell? Could he... smell the tiger on me? Even after I washed?

“Oh, um, it worked.”

“But…?”

“Well, it worked last _night_.” I can’t seem to meet his eye. I feel ashamed for letting the tiger touch me like he did this morning. Of course, there wasn’t any choice on my part. It was either be punished publicly and harshly or submit—and either way, he was going to fuck me.

“Ah. This morning, then. It explains your limp. He should have waited.”

“Waited?” I ask, slightly confused. “Waited for what?”

“For the mating season. It will be more comfortable then. I don’t like to see you limping. You’re a Sanga. You shouldn’t be treated that way.”

I don’t think _anyone_ should touch me (or anyone else) without my consent at all, but this is a guest. I think I should keep my mouth shut. So instead, since my mouth is already open to retort, I change what I planned to say.

“Well, you need help with your hair and I need to change your bandage,” I say, trying to change the subject. “I’ll be right back with some medical supplies.”

He catches my sleeve, making me turn back right away. He doesn’t say anything—just sits there, his hand on my arm, meeting my gaze with that pale blue eye.

“What?” I ask, trying not to sound put out and irritated. A few moments pass before he sighs softly.

“Are you all right?”

Is he really asking me this—now? I have no idea what I can possibly say to that question. How am I supposed to answer?

“No. I’m _not_ all right. I don’t want to be here! I can’t keep doing this! I don’t belong here—it’s a terrible fit! I wonder if I’d be better off dead!” I’m a little surprised at the torrent of emotion and words that flow from my lips.

“Well, that’s direct,” Rai replies. He lets my sleeve go, but grabs my hand. “Maybe I can help.”

I perk up my ears. I can feel tears burning the back of my eyes, but I’m not going to cry in front of him.

“Tell the tiger I require your services.”

“Services?” I ask, pulling away a little—or trying to. What exactly does he mean? I don't like the sound of "services." My stomach sinks into my feet.

“My hair,” he says softly. When he says it, I look up at it. It’s long and lush and full—even still pretty with how clumpy it is. “Help me wash it. Warm water. I need to bathe—and warm water will make it take longer. Go back and tell the old man I’m requesting your help and care.”

I swallow. I can do that. That is actually sort of kind. Maybe my opinion of him hasn’t changed quite yet.

“All right.”

After leaving his room, I scoop up two used trays from the hallway and carry them downstairs.

“You’re spending more time with the guest at the end of the hall than with me. Why _is_ that?”

It’s the gray cat who accosted me this morning.

“He’s injured. He needs medical care.”

“And that’s what you’re here for? To provide ‘medical care’? Or is that just what they call it now?” His voice sounds derisive and snarky. I _hate_ him. I hate him for even looking at me that way.

I really want to tell this guest to go fuck himself. But I restrain myself. Instead, I carry the trays back down the stairs without saying anything to him.

“Um, excuse me, sir?” I address Bardo.

“You can call me Bardo, kitten. Though I do appreciate your respectful tone.” He brushes my ears in a gentle, casual way. It freaks me out just the same, and I can’t help flattening my ears a little. He chuckles at my response. “You know, that little avoidant reflex of yours is quite enchanting.”

“Um, Bardo, the guest at the end of the hall? He is requesting my assistance. He says, um, he needs to bathe and wash his hair.”

“I see.” The tiger doesn't look pleased. But I continue just the same.

“He requested hot water and my assistance. I need to change his bandages anyway,” I say softly. “Of course, I will fetch the rest of the trays first.”

“All right. Hop to it. I’ll get some hot water for you.”

I head back upstairs to collect a few more trays. If the dishes are empty, I can stack them and carry four at a time. The gray cat is still watching me from his door. He is obviously staring at me—my tail and my ass—as I bend down to pick up the trays.

“Can I help you?” I ask, trying really hard to keep a respectful tone and failing completely.

He smiles—no, more like leers—at me.

“You really are sore, aren’t you? He wasn’t kind to you, was he? Or is it you’re just so small and inexperienced you haven’t learned to enjoy it yet? Is that the sound I heard? It sounded like a song.”

I don’t reply and move back toward the stairs. He reaches out to grab me, and I hurry away—and immediately lose my footing at the top step, slipping and falling down the stairs while spilling all four trays down the staircase. It makes a loud sound and my ankle really hurts. I don’t think I broke any bones, but then I notice the dishes. There are four cracked plates littering the steps. Terror strikes my chest and I quickly start to pick things up, ignoring the pain in my ankle.

My vision blurs almost immediately. I _know_ I will be punished for this. And I hear Bardo’s heavy stride approaching. I think I might be sick.

“Oy—what’s this?”

The guest up at the top of the stairs is still watching me.

“You broke all my dishes!” Bardo says. He sounds more exasperated than angry.

“I-i… I’m s-so sorry! I, um, I j-just slipped,” I stammer.

“Clean it up,” Bardo says, his voice oddly neutral. He leaves and returns with a bucket of soapy water. “Use this, too. I can’t have my guests slipping on the stairs.” He clicks his tongue impatiently. “Gods. You’re really clumsy.”

Honestly, if my body weren’t so sore, I wouldn’t have stumbled. And I only stumbled because of the gray cat’s unwanted attention. I’m pissed that I’m getting in trouble for this! But I restrain my anger—which is making me even less coordinated.

“Get down here.”

I look up.

“But I haven’t finished—”

“Get down here _now_.” Bardo’s voice is low and calm, but deep and frightening. His fur has slightly bristled, and he’s terribly intimidating. I obey quickly, trying not to trip on the way down.

“I’m s-sorry,” I start again.

“Go fetch the spoon. Bring it to me.”

My ears and tail droop hopelessly, but I can’t disobey. It’s nearly mid-morning, and I’m sure the alternative is going to be much worse than a wooden spoon. I’m hoping he brings me into the bedroom or something, but I have no such luck when I come back with the spoon in hand. In fact, Gen follows me out from the kitchen and watches me walk back to the lobby. I look over my shoulder and the gray cat is watching as well from his place at the top of the stairs.

Fuck. It’s business, I think. Bardo thinks this is going to build his business.

“I apologize on behalf of my clumsy charge, here,” Bardo says to the gray cat. “Let me make it right.”

I didn’t _do_ anything to the gray cat! I have no idea how I could have offended him! It's insulting!

“Climb up on the sofa. On your knees.”

I obey—realizing that my ass pretty much faces the staircase this way. At least I can see them watching me. But I know what is going to happen and I dig my claws into the back of the sofa.

“Not yet. I want you to lower your pants.”

A hot blush flows into my cheeks and ears. I’m _totally_ ashamed. I’m not even partly out of it—like I was yesterday with his clever “dish” punishment in the dining room. I'm very well aware of what is about to be done to me. My claws are drawn and I struggle for a minute with the tie on my trousers.

“Go on,” Bardo urges me.

“I am—I just—”

“You don’t talk back to me, kitten,” he says sharply—and my ear is suddenly grabbed. At least it’s the one that isn’t pierced. My neck is craned uncomfortably backward, but I struggle with my pants the best I can. “There you go. That’s better.”

I’m trembling now, my pants around my knees and my ass exposed to Gen and the guest upstairs—and several other guests, I assume, since this is becoming quite a performance. Anger wells up in my chest and mixes with shame and embarrassment—along with a sense of utter disbelief. How did I get here?!

“Keep your hands in place and maintain your position. I won’t spare your hands if I see them back here.”

A bolt of fear shoots through my chest and I murmur, “Yes, sir.”

The last time he used the spoon to spank me was only a few hours ago. I’m still sore—and not just my ass, but my insides and below my tail. Before he begins, I feel a large, warm hand back there, stroking the base of my tail and moving it out of the way, pulling it upward roughly as though to expose my hole. He also strokes in between my cheeks in a slow, languid way that feels like he thinks I should appreciate his touch. I _don't_. At all.

“Poor kitten. You haven’t even recovered from this morning. Still, this will be better than the public square, don’t you think?”

“Yes, sir,” I sob softly, trying to keep my tears in check. He hasn’t even started yet—I’m just exhausted and angry and so ashamed! I don’t want to be treated like an object he can use to please his guests.

Then the spanking begins. There’s no warmup or breaks—just repeated, hard smacks scattered across my ass and even the backs of my thighs. When he spanks my thighs, the claws on my right hand loosen from the back of the couch and my hand sneaks back to cover my leg. Sure enough, just as he promised, he smacks my hand—my palm and then my fingers when I don’t move it enough. I cry out in pain.

“Get back in position,” he says, his voice low and calm.

I do—but now I’m unable to draw claws on that hand. It hurts so much—and he still is not stopping.

I can’t take anymore and against my better judgment, I lower my butt down toward my ankles. Instead, my tail is grabbed and struck with the flat part of the spoon. I cry out loud and climb up to my knees in an instant—a shivering, hot shock flowing from my tail into my spine.

“Please— _please_ ,” I am begging softly through my tears.

"Stay in position. You're only making it worse."

My begging does nothing. I have completely forgotten about my audience and instead am concentrated on keeping my hands and tail away from that spoon and maintaining my position.

“All right,” he says eventually, slowing down the spanks and increasing pressure on the last six. My body jerks forward and a small yelp escapes my mouth after each one. “That should do it. You look lovely.”

I don’t move from my place on the couch, even after he stops—though more than anything, I want to rub my ass and my thighs and get the pain to distribute a little.

“Stay right there. Clasp your arms around the back of your head and get up on your knees.”

My breath is hitching, but I whisper a soft, “yes, sir,” and obey.

“If you move from that position, you will earn yourself something worse.”

“Please, sir. Yes, sir,” I babble softly. My butt feels like it’s on fire, and my tail won’t be still. That large hand feels much cooler than it did earlier, pressed against my hot skin. He rubs over my sore butt and then shoves his fingers in between my thighs.

“Relax your legs a little. Open up your thighs a bit.” I obey and he says, “Good boy. That's nice. Now stay here.”

I’m completely ashamed now—and I am aware of the presence of several cats on the stairway. Bardo heads up the steps and cleans up the rest of the dishes, sighing heavily. Tears spill down my cheeks—even though I am trying to stop—and I manage to suppress my sobs into heavy breaths.

I must be on display for about five minutes by the time Bardo has cleaned up the rest of the stairs. I hear him head into the kitchen and while my ears tilt back to listen to him, it’s the motion on the stairs that I pay attention to, now. Someone is coming up to me and I feel another hand on my ass. I resist the urge to bite that hand, but my claws are drawn and I can feel my fur bristle.

“You’re such a pretty little thing,” the cat whispers in my ear. He licks it, too—grossing me out and making me tilt my head away—but I stay where I am, in case Bardo comes out and finds me “not in position.” I recognize the voice. It’s the gray cat who has been harassing me since yesterday. “That was just _lovely_. Still, I would have treated you _much_ more kindly. I hope you regret not coming into my room. Next time, you’ll know better and comply with my wishes.”

The guest licks me again and leaves. I am seething with rage—but even the rage is diminished because of how helpless and hopeless I feel. Damn it. I need to get out of here.

Finally, after another five minutes, Bardo returns from the kitchen. I can tell it’s him from the sound of his footsteps. I recognize his long gait. My stomach flops over and I feel nauseous.

“All right. You did well. Good boy.” Rubbing my ears gently, he continues, “Go ahead and get dressed, kitten. And get back to work. Your patient awaits.”

I obey without delay—pulling up my pants and tying them. I see three buckets—two filled with steaming water and one with soap, shampoo, medical supplies, and some cloths. I am so angry right now that I want to give Bardo another dose of that sedative—maybe even enough to kill him this time. But I push those frightening thoughts away, wipe my tears and then head back upstairs. I have to make two trips, so I leave the water outside Rai’s door, completely ignoring the other cats' stares and their clicking tongues and licked lips. I am so disgusted with what just happened—and a little shiver goes through my shoulders when I think that wasn’t a punishment at the square. A public punishment would be so much more humiliating!

I return back down the stairs to collect the third bucket and then knock on Rai’s door. My legs are exhausted and my skin hurts, but working—doing _something—_ is enough to make me keep my mind together.

“It’s Konoe, sir,” I murmur at the door.

“Come.”

I bring the bucket of supplies in with me and then return for both buckets of hot water. I close the door behind me softly.

“What happened?”

“Oh. Um, I slipped on the stairs,” I say, unwilling to meet that sharp gaze.

“I meant, were you punished?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry to hear it. Do you need care?”

“What? Oh, um, no.” There is no way I’m going to be dropping my pants again. “Besides, you shouldn’t be moving around so much. You’re going to reopen your wounds.”

I focus my attention on the bandage around the silver cat’s head, the one covering his eye. I unwrap it, using as gentle of touch as I can—and he doesn’t even hiss at me today.

“Does it hurt?” I ask softly.

“Do _you_?”

I flatten my ears and ignore the question. But I don’t miss the slightest smirk on his lips. I feel _utterly_ offended. Does he think that was _funny_? He thinks me getting punished for something that wasn’t my fault—and me being utterly humiliated—is _amusing?_

“Is something funny?” I ask, trying to keep my tone in check, but my molars are grinding and my jaw is tight.

“Actually, now that you mention it…”

I pull back slightly and glare down at him.

“It’s probably _not_ a good idea to be making fun of the cat who is helping to heal you,” I advise. “Who knows? If you piss me off, my hands might slip.”

A gruff sound comes out of the silver cat—and I realize it is a chuckle. He is actually _laughing_ at me, and rage boils up inside my chest and I pull myself away from him—slightly afraid that I might actually hurt him, even on accident.

“This is like… the _worst_ fit for you,” Rai says. He reaches out and grabs my shirt. “And I’m _not_ laughing because you were punished unfairly.”

“What’s so funny, then?” I snarl—but again, those powerful arms pull me gently (but ever so strongly) against his chest. He leans down and grooms my ears—softly and tenderly. The gentle touch sends waves of comfort through my body, rushing down my spine and into my tail. My shoulders relax and my chest tightens, and I feel bad for snapping at him.

I’m still angry—I didn’t deserve that humiliating treatment—I don’t deserve _any_ of this—but tears are burning in my eyes. I squeeze my eyes closed and a soft sob escapes my lips. I tighten them quickly—I have no plans to cry in front of this elegant cat, but I can’t seem to help it.

“Shh. It’s all right. You’re safe here.” The low voice whispers into my ear—and the way it sinks into me, it feels like a touch—like a gentle embrace around my heart and broken soul. Tears spill regardless of what I want, and he doesn’t shush me. He just holds me in his arms and keeps grooming my ears. Something warm and soft wraps around my tail and then around my waist. I look down, and coiled around my own tail is his fluffy white one. It looks decadent and luscious… and it feels so comforting.

So for now, I close my eyes and relax my body. For right now—at _this_ moment—I just rest and relax. I empty my mind and let those tears fall as they will. The more I cry, the tighter those arms pull me in. I feel a soft vibration under my skin—and a quiet, calm purr spills out of me—along with something else that is not nearly as quiet and calm.

My body jerks suddenly, but Rai does not loosen his grip. A song spills from my body—filled with anguish and anger and hopelessness—and I feel nothing but relief from the light that pours out of me and wraps around this cat, taking a hold of his heart as firmly as he is currently holding me.

Rai purrs softly, stroking my hair with his claws.

“It’s all right. You’re all right.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OK. So, dear readers, I think I have discovered the cause of my writer's block. I tend to "inhabit" worlds that are way, way worse than real life. It's kinda like the desire to watch horror movies, you know--having a safe space to experience intense emotion that you would never experience in real life (or maybe have once experienced IRL and never want to have again). 
> 
> That being said... this update is rough. It describes various types of inhumane (in-Ribikane?) punishments. Please read with caution.
> 
> Also, I've left a harmless summary at the end of the chapter if you want to skip this update. Wash your hands and stay healthy!

Thankfully, my song doesn’t last very long nor is it very loud. I’m afraid of Bardo rebuking me for singing and punishing me again. In all fairness, I couldn’t help singing—the song just spilled out of me along with my emotions. I have got to figure out how to control it! I can’t risk further punishment!

I’m not as exhausted as I have been after singing previously. I’m not sure why—maybe Rai’s arms around me are comforting and soothing, and maybe that’s enough to help me feel a little better or a little more hopeful about where I am and my future. There is a part of my heart that believes that this silver cat is the key to my escape. Sure, that could be my own desperation rearing its head, but I need every bit of hope I can get!

“Your voice is magical,” he murmurs softly, licking my ear, grooming my fur with a tenderness that makes me want to cry. “You can sing for me whenever you like.”

“I want you to heal,” I say, as soon as I have myself together again. “I want…” I stop my sentence, realizing I was about to tell him I want him to take me away from here. I can't put that sort of pressure on him. I don't know the punishment for stealing another's slave, after all. I could never ask him to take that risk.

“What do you want?”

“…” I know better than to say anything else about escape, so I consider my next words carefully. “I want you to get better. I can help you.”

Rai touches my chin gently and tilts my head up to meet his eye.

“You don’t need any care?”

“I’m fine,” I say. But in truth, my ankle is sore from the fall and of course, my ass and thighs hurt from the spanking. I won't discuss it with him, though. “Here, let’s get you washed up before the water gets any colder.”

I get the cat to lie down in his bed with his head toward the edge of the mattress. Using one of the buckets of water, I get to work on his hair. I shampoo it three times and rinse it, then comb some conditioner through the ends and wait a moment. His hair is soft and thick, silky and smooth—I am somewhat amazed how beautiful it is. At first, I think I might be envious. Maybe I wish I had hair as pretty as this. But then, after I think about it, I realize I’m _attracted_ to him, and I like his hair, too. That’s what this is. He's handsome.

I can tell he is watching me, but he doesn’t flinch at all. Not even when I clean out his ears. Once I’ve finished, I use the clean water to rinse his hair—using a cup to rinse it well. Then I towel it dry as best as I can and comb through it with my claws.

I’ve left his injured eye open to the air all this time. Once his hair is neat and mostly dry, I dress his wound freshly. I apply a little more of those leaves to help with the scarring and check the stitches, pleased that it’s healthy and not infected. I did a good job with the sutures. I also offer him a little more medication for pain. He takes them willingly and without making a fuss. He seems calmer now, relaxed, comfortable around me.

“I haven’t been able to fix your clothes yet, but I’ll try,” I say.

Rai makes a small huffing sound in reply, but he doesn’t seem upset or distressed.

When I’ve finished, he watches me pack up some of the stuff and he stops me.

“Won’t you help me with the rest of my bath?”

I jerk my chin up and meet his eye.

“I’m covered in dirt and blood.”

“Oh, um, sure.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t force this upon me yesterday. You were much more forceful in your care then.”

I think he’s being funny—or trying to be funny—and I suppress a small smile. I know he’s trying to make me feel better.

“Let me fetch some additional water. I’ll be back. Rest in the meantime.”

I carry both buckets out of the room and carry them downstairs. My ankle is still throbbing and my ass is burning. I’m very careful not to slosh the water out of the bucket or spill. I bring them to the kitchen to dump them, and Bardo is waiting for me, hand on his hips, ears flat.

“What _was_ that?”

“Excuse me? Sir?” I look up, my fur bristling in fear. I don’t think I did anything to displease him. “I, um, was seeing to the silver cat’s hair and bandage—”

“I meant, what was that _sound_?”

Shit. He heard me sing? Gods. I lower my eyes, defeated. I can’t deny it, so I bite my lip and stay very still.

“I _just_ told you not to sing for him again. He is _dangerous_. He is the _last_ cat to need any additional power.”

“It, um, was intended to heal—”

“He will heal on his own!”

“I’m, um, I-i’m sorry.” What else can I say? I can’t very well admit that the song just comes out around Rai. I’m not sure that would serve either of us. “He, um, asked me to help him bathe. I just washed his hair—”

“Perhaps later. But now, you’re coming with me. There’s something you need to see. I think it will help you make wiser decisions.”

Bardo grabs my upper arm and drags me out of the kitchen. I’m really scared—I know what he is going to show me, and I just hope I’m going as a spectator. I really hope he isn’t planning to send me to be publicly punished.

I have a hard time keeping up with his long gait, both because my ankle hurts and my legs are shorter than his, and he ignores my struggle. It almost feels like he is trying to make me struggle and make me seem disobedient. In truth, I’m trying my best to keep up with him, but with him dragging me behind him so roughly, I’m sure it looks like I’m resisting.

We walk out of the inn and head toward the town center square. It’s a short ten-minute walk, and I’m stunned with the number of people in the area. It’s the busiest part of the city, and I would avoid it when I was still free. I didn’t long throngs of large cats grabbing me or watching me suspiciously.

In the center square, there’s a wood stage that has been constructed with several cats standing on it. It’s obvious who are the slaves here. They are all in terrible shape—ragged clothing hanging off underfed bodies, haggard, fearful faces, ungroomed and matted fur. Revulsion and fear mix inside my stomach and bile rises in my throat. My heart is pounding as Bardo pushes through the crowd. I’m scared to death of being made to go up there.

Even around the tiger’s large body, I see several things waiting for use on the stage. There are stocks, a pillory, something that looks like a bench you'd kneel on in a church, and some other contraptions I don’t recognize. The cat in charge is dressed in black and wearing a mask that covers his face, like an executioner. He has several assistants dressed similarly but without masks, and four slaves kneeling on the ground, their hands and feet shackled.

“Excuse us,” Bardo says as he gets to the front of the crowd. He pulls me around to the front of his body and puts both hands on my shoulders, making me turn around and face the stage. He has me pulled against his stomach and chest, and I feel like I’m an inch tall. Fear is pouring out of me in waves, sweat dripping down my neck. “Take a close look, kitten. Watch and learn,” he whispers into my ear.

A shudder of fear courses through my body. I don’t want to watch. The executioner, or whatever he is, is speaking in a grandiose voice, but I don’t understand the words he is saying. My ears are filled with an unpleasant rushing sound, throbbing in time to the beat of my heart. I think he is talking about the first slave kneeling in front of him.

“He’s being punished for repeated disobedience. Watch closely,” Bardo says.

Two other administrators pull the exhausted slave to his feet and push him over to a thick wooden pole. The slave is exhausted, but I can clearly see the terror in his face, and he is struggling against the two cats holding him in place on either side.

To my utter horror, the executioner is holding a hammer and a large stake in his hand. The two assistants force the slave’s head to the side—and pull him up to his tiptoes—and the executioner unceremoniously pounds the stake into the pole _through the slave’s ear._

I can’t hear the sound of the hammer over the slave’s screams and the cheers of the crowd. I am filled with disgust and thankful I haven’t eaten today since I would surely vomit at the display. It takes at least four good whacks with the hammer to force the stake through the prisoner’s ear, and by the second stroke, his screams overpower everything else. The assistants don’t have their faces covered, and they are looking at the slave with sadistic glee.

Blinking my eyes several times, I’m unable to quite comprehend what I am seeing. But I realize just how real the punishment is when I see the executioner and assistants step back, leaving the slave in pain, balancing on his tiptoes, helpless, his legs shaking and exhausted. His hands are bound behind him, shackled in chains as are his ankles, so he can't protect his ear. As soon as he tires, the weight of his body will tear the tip of his ear, where the stake is holding it in place.

Tears spill down my face and I’m horrified, wanting to turn away, wanting not to look, but the hands on my shoulder reach up to my ears and turn my head back to the stage, forcing me to watch.

“Please… no…” I murmur, but my voice can’t be heard over the crowd and the slave’s screams. I remember how much it hurt to have my ear pierced with that thin, sharp needle, and it throbs sympathetically with the slave attached to the post. That was nothing, I think, compared to this brutality!

Across the stage, the executioner has already moved on to the next victim. They are forcing another slave into a pillory, restraining his head and hands through the wooden holes, currently facing away from the crowd. He is stripped unceremoniously. The executioner takes a brand—and I hadn’t even noticed the small steel stove smoking away—in a thick leather glove and applies a second and larger brand to the slave’s thigh.

The sound and smell of burning flesh are horrible—this is a much larger brand than the one I received at Halfway—and the iron is glowing red hot, about the size of my palm. The slave screams in pain, but he can’t move. It looks like the brand is a large letter T.

“That’s T for ‘thief,’” Bardo clarifies.

“Please—I understand—I will never—”

“Shut your pretty mouth and watch. We aren’t done yet. This next one tried to escape.”

Another slave is attached to a pillory and viciously flogged after his clothes are removed. I don’t even understand exactly what the punishment is for, but the slave’s back is bloody and he is hanging from the pillory, passed out from the pain, even before the beating stops. It’s horrible to watch the agony when he is conscious and even worse to see his body just hanging by his wrists, being jerked around with every lash, unconscious.

My heart feels like it’s in my mouth and I truly don’t think I can watch anymore. But there is one remaining slave on the stage. His hand is forced into a small stockade while his body is restrained by one other assistant.

The executioner approaches him with another tool—it looks like a large set of pliers. While the assistant forces the slave’s claws to draw by pushing on his palm, the executioner pulls out the claw of his pinky finger. The slave screams, of course, but that isn’t what I notice first. I hear the sound the claw makes as it is pulled from the flesh. It sounds like a piece of fruit being squashed carelessly underfoot.

My gag reflex acts up—that was my intended punishment if Virus had not interfered. I’m horrified and afraid. While I still can’t hear anything, my other senses are heightened. The red blood dripping from the slave’s hand, the heat from the glowing pliers, the smell of metal and burning flesh fill my nostrils. I gag several times, struggling not to vomit. I cannot _believe_ the lack of humanity reflected here—and the crowd—my gods. I don’t even know where to start. I'm disgusted, afraid, angry, and helpless.

“All right. That should do it,” Bardo says. He grabs my shoulder and pushes me ahead of him to clear a space in the crowd. I think he is talking to me—in a low, warning voice—that _this_ is my future if I continue to disobey.

I’m sobbing by the time we get back to the inn. My ear is throbbing, my brand is throbbing, my ass is hurting—and I can barely walk. I collapse once we enter the lobby. I'm overcome with emotion and sympathy, absolutely baffled at what I've just witnessed.

“Get up,” Bardo says. “You know what will happen to you now—and how good you have it here—even if you do disobey. Get those morning dishes done and then see to your patient.”

A shudder of fear ripples through my shoulders and stomach. I can’t meet the tiger’s eye—I am so frightened. I was sure I was going to be next. I had anticipated that being publicly stripped would be the worst part of the punishment, but now I understand how very wrong I was. I worry about the slaves—one will lose his ear, one has a new brand, one has a claw that will never grow back, one was beaten to the state of unconsciousness. It’s so much crueler than I could have ever imagined.

Maybe I _should_ be thankful for what I have here. I’m glad to get my hands in the soapy water. I let the repetitive work distract me from the images I saw. I am very careful not to break any dishes, scrubbing them extra clean.

Gen is watching me out of the corner of his eye, heating up water for the silver cat’s bath. He scares the crap out of me, stroking my ear gently to get my attention.

“Kitten. Are you all right? I’ve been talking to you.”

“Oh—I’m s-so sorry,” I say, bowing my head politely. I really didn’t hear him, and I cringe in fear that I will be punished for not listening to my betters.

“It’s all right. You’re working hard and doing your best,” he says, almost encouragingly. “The guest upstairs. Can he move?”

“Um, I don’t think he should.”

“All right. I was wondering if we should carry the bathtub up to him. It might be more efficient.”

“Oh, yes. I will help.”

Together, the two of us carry a small wooden tub upstairs. I need to fill it with water, though, and even bringing two buckets at a time, with Gen’s help, I only manage to fill it about a third of the way.

Of course, Rai growls when we enter the room. The medication I gave him earlier is working, at least. He’s groggy and vulnerable. He hates feeling vulnerable. A cat as strong and powerful as he is probably doesn’t have much experience feeling helpless. But I ignore him, for the most part, stroking the soft fur on his ears as I pass out of the room. The ears flick slightly, but he doesn’t move away.

“That should do it,” Gen says. “We have to keep in mind that you’ll need to empty the tub, too.” He strokes my ears—while we are standing in the silver cat’s room. “You’re doing well here, kitten. You’re learning fast and doing your best. Don’t worry too much about the public square. The old tiger has never brought a slave there. He prefers to administer his own discipline. And it’s good to have you here. You're a big help.”

I lower my eyes and my ears flick away from his touch. I know he means well, but I don’t like him touching me, even if he means to encourage me. I don’t know what else to do, though. So I just wait for him to leave.

Then, I turn toward the silver cat. His pupil is dilated wide and his fangs are bared. Is that from the medication, I wonder? I don’t let the aggressive look of his fangs bother me, and I place my hand between his ears. He feels all right—maybe slightly warm. I am worried about an infection.

Now, I have to figure out how to get him into the tub. And my heart flutters just a little bit—with the possibility of all that pale white skin before me.

“All right. You’re going to have to help me,” I say firmly.

Rai simply growls in response. I can’t help it. My sanity feels like it’s slipping and I giggle. What can he do? Yet still, he growls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Konoe manages to wash Rai's hair and get his bandage changed. Bardo is waiting for him, however, when he returns to the kitchen, and rebukes him for singing to Rai. He takes Konoe out on a little errand to the public square, where Konoe witnesses first hand several brutal punishments administered to slaves who have stolen, disobeyed, and run away.
> 
> Traumatized by what he's seen but relieved that he isn't made to suffer the same, Konoe keeps his mouth closed as he gets lost in the morning dishes. Gen helps set up a bath for Rai in his room, and the chapter closes with Konoe trying to figure out how to get the large, drugged cat into the bath.


	19. Chapter 19

Bathing the large silver cat is much more time consuming and a lot more effort than I expected. My body is still sore but more exhausted and flustered than anything.

He stripped out of his robe easily enough—seemingly completely unperturbed about being naked in front of me. He shouldn’t be embarrassed. Maybe if I was as big and as muscular as him—if I put as much time to training as he does—I wouldn’t be ashamed about being naked, either.

He isn’t as helpful as he thinks he is, though, after his clothes are off. He has to lean on me a lot to get into the tub, and he feels free to touch me as he likes. I realize after the first two minutes that his touch feels different from anything I have felt so far. At first, I can’t figure out what is so different.

He is teasing me—touching me in a way that he thinks I will enjoy—rather than with a specific purpose to arouse me or because there's something he wants from me. He touches my ears and my hair, and then my tail profusely.

“I’ve never seen a cat with a tail shaped like yours,” he mutters, running his claws through the tip of my tail as he talks, sitting back in the tub, finally. He is too big for this tub, too. I’m glad I didn’t put more water in it. It would overflow if I had.

Of course, I’m not really used to being handled in any intimate way—but I realize I haven’t tried to stop him from touching me. It’s almost… soothing. It makes no sense at all, I think, especially considering all the unpleasant touching that has been going on today. Every time I walk through the kitchen or lobby, either Bardo or Gen is touching me somehow—grabbing my ass, pinching my thigh, combing through my fur. But what Rai is doing feels more like it’s for my own benefit—like Rai wants me to feel pleasure.

When I look at his face—having given up trying to keep my tail out of his hands at this point—those drugs seem to be working very well. I wonder if they have any particular sexual side effects. That must be why he is touching me. He wouldn’t actually be attracted to me as a person, would he?

“There weren’t any cats your size where I grew up, either.”

I flatten my ears and glare up at his face. He has a very neutral expression—his mouth set in a line—except for his eye. His pupil is dilated so wide you can almost not tell his eye is that lovely pale blue. It makes him look even more delicious. My body seems to understand on a basic level that a dilated pupil is something attractive.

I try not to pay attention to him even as I am scrubbing his skin. I'm trying to be gentle, but it's hard to tell how gentle I am being. His skin very pale—and it stays pale even in the hot water and under the washcloth I am using. My skin gets pink when it’s warm. The bath looks _so_ nice, I think suddenly.

“Want to get in?”

I’m a little surprised he is so easily able to read my thoughts. It would feel nice—soaking in hot water—but I’d never strip out of my clothes so readily.

“I’ll make room.”

“There’s barely enough room in there for you,” I reply shortly, trying to keep my eyes away from his body. But that’s hard to do when I’m supposed to be helping him wash. “If you get up on your knees, I’ll help you with your tail.”

“I’m fine,” he says, lying back in the tub. “The water is still warm. Get in.”

I see just a glint of mischief behind that eye—but not in time. He grabs me by both arms—it doesn’t hurt, but I can really feel the power behind his grip. I’m so surprised that I don’t resist—I just look up and a tiny meow escapes my lips just as he pulls me into the water on top of him. I’m fully dressed, and my clothes are soaked instantly.

And gods, I am sitting right on his lap, my legs on either side of his hips. And he is holding me in place. Being so close to him makes me feel mighty aroused. I can feel my dick stiffen when he presses his own erection against me.

“Oy!” I protest again. “You’re going to spill—”

“Actually, it’s _you_ who is making the water slosh over the sides,” he says, and he hums softly, nuzzling his nose right at my shoulder. My head tips to the side with the touch of his lips against my bare skin—it’s exposed since the water soaking my clothes has made them so heavy. “Just be still.”

I relax for just a second—knowing I should not be doing this—but I relax. He lets his claws run through my fur, still paying more attention to my tail than I know what to do with.

“Oh. You got wet.”

I’m a little surprised to hear that—and his tone is just weird—and so I pull away from him for a second to meet his gaze. He looks so… innocent. And how he manages to do this is incredibly weird. I know he’s a bounty hunter—and a good one, even if that devil managed to take his eye. There's nothing innocent or child-like about him. This has got to be a side effect fo the medication.

“You just pulled me in here,” I say.

“Did I? Oh. Right. You looked cold.”

“I wasn’t,” I insist. “But I am now.”

“I can help you with that. We can get out if you want.”

That’s way easier said than done, I think. I do manage to stand up in the tub, but he won’t take his hands off me.

“Just a minute,” I say, pushing his hands away from my body.

He makes a soft protesting growl—it sounds resistant—but he does eventually let me climb out of the tub. I’m not sure what to do about my clothes. I was not given any underwear this morning—and I have a feeling that in my new life now, I need to start dealing with this lack and the fear of constant exposure. Otherwise, I would slip out of my pants to let them dry. As it is… my top isn’t as wet, and it’s long enough to cover me, so I consider taking off my pants but don't actually do it.

Rai is watching me—his eye still completely dilated and the corners of his lips are curving up slightly.

“Are you shy?” He asks. “You don’t need to be around me. I like your shape quite well. And it’s obvious when your clothes cling to you so nicely.”

“Shut up,” I mutter, disrespectfully. Instead, I need to figure out how to get him out of the tub and dry. I hold up a towel and ask, “Can you stand?”

I’m trying to keep the towel at a level where I will cover up the silver cat’s most important bits—though even I realize the ridiculousness of referring to those parts as “bits.” “Bit” implies something about the size that excludes what I am seeing right now.

He is terribly unsteady on his feet—enough now that I wonder if I have given him too much of that pain medication or perhaps he is joking around. There’s no way he should sway this much. Did I give him an extra dose and forget?

Regardless, I can’t make him steady. I do my best to wrap the towel around his shoulders and I let him lean on me to step over the edge of the tub. Lean on me he does, too—I nearly collapse beneath his weight—and then I do collapse with him on top of me on his bed—both of us wet, and him naked.

“Get off,” I mutter. “You’re too heavy.”

“I’m just relaxed,” he purrs softly, nuzzling into the side of my neck. “I think you smell nice—but I’d like your scent even better mixed with mine.” I feel something else damp (and warm) when he licks the side of my neck. His tongue is so strangely textured.

It’s not really weird, though. His fur is really thick and long so of course, his tongue would have to be as well to groom it effectively. The way his fur and hair look when soaked through with water is impressive. I look like a porcupine, but his fur still looks full and soft. And it seems like even with as thick and long as it is, it still dries faster than mine. His village must have cold winters and wet summers, I think.

“You’re a mess,” I say softly. “Let me help you.”

“You’re getting my bed wet,” he purrs into my ear. “I’d rather have something other than bathwater to enjoy once you go back to work.”

He’s not getting off of me. Instead, he’s pinning me down and licking my ears. His tongue is so loud—I can hardly stand it. It sounds really nice, but I need to get him dressed and dry.

“H-help me get you d-dried off and dressed. I d-don’t want you to catch a cold or get a fever,” I stammer, trying to encourage him to move.

“I’m fine,” he whispers—and his breath moves the fur inside my ear. I’m purring in response to the low rumbling chest, too. It’s kind of frustrating to _have_ to purr in response. I didn’t know that would happen since I’ve spent so little time around others. “This is nice.”

“You’re heavy,” I complain softly, and he chuckles just a little. He is really, really out of it, I think. It’s rare to see him smile this much or ever laugh at all. “I think you’ve had too much of that pain medication.”

“I feel pretty good,” he admits. “But I’m pretty sure I know what would make me feel better.”

“What?”

“Well, if I tell you, will you do it?”

With the large silver cat lying on top of me in a bed—I find it difficult to say that, yes, I would love to make him feel better. I would normally say such a thing, but with him pinning me here in place like this…

“It kind of depends on what you’re going to ask.”

He laughs again.

“Well, certainly, _that_ would probably make me feel better, too. Not what I was thinking, but still. I didn’t think your mind would go straight there.”

That admission makes blood flood my ears and cheeks—and Rai’s response to my blush is weird. He’s watching as my face heats up, and it’s as if his gaze is what is making me warm. He can follow its spread to the tips of my ears. He hums—a delighted sort of sound.

“What?” I ask.

He lies down on top of me, pushing me completely underneath his body, tucking his chin over my shoulder. And he smells so good I can hardly stand it. When he talks, his voice enters my left ear first—and his mouth is further away than it was, but he still tickles the soft fur deep inside.

“I don’t know your terms of use,” he states. “I wouldn’t want to take advantage. However… I can guarantee you some rest if you find out what they are for me. Come see me and I’ll let you sleep.”

I can’t exactly figure out what he means, but it almost feels like he is asking me to check with Bardo if he is allowed to pay for my time. And if I figure out the terms, perhaps he won’t… push me into anything I don’t want.

“I don’t get off on doing things to unwilling partners,” he purrs softly. “I’d like to repay you for your kindness. I thought having unmolested sleep would be of interest to you.”

My ears bristle up a little.

“I might make you sleep in my bed, though.”

“He’s, um, he’s already upset with how much time I’ve been spending with you. He got angry because I sang for you and forbid me to do it again.”

“He won’t allow you to sing for me?” Rai sounds appalled. “But that’s your gift—and that guy knows exactly how unusual you are. Sanga are rare these days.”

“He says you don’t need my help or power,” I reply.

Rai pushes off on the mattress, on either side of my shoulders, lifting his torso off me for just a few minutes so he can peer in my eyes.

“I need to fix your bandage. It got wet,” I point out the damp dressing on his injured eye.

“Hmm.”

He looks like he wants to say more, and I reach my hands up to his face. He jerks in surprise at my soft touch—almost like I startled him. It’s an endearing reaction.

“Maybe make him some more tea,” he says softly. “Then you don’t need to ask for his permission.”

“All right. Will you let me dress your wound?”

“Hmm.” He doesn’t really reply, but he is watching me.

“And the rest of you, too?”

“Mmm.” This is more of a complaint. But he does roll off me, watching me carefully as I get up. I hop back to work right away, keenly aware of the time I’ve already spent with this guest. I’m nervous I will be missed—or am already missed—and that punishment awaits me.

“You’re rushing,” Rai remarks, lying on his back, the towel draped over his hips, as I am dressing his eye.

“I’m not,” I insist, but I think he’s probably right. I’m terribly afraid of Bardo and whatever punishment he has planned. Perhaps I will do well with the tea and maybe I can hold him off? It would be awful if Bardo came in while Rai was pinning me against the bed. I know that for sure would piss him off. Although… it was my understanding from Virus that I would be required to service the guests in just this way. “I’ve, um, just been away from the kitchen too long.”

“You don’t belong in a kitchen,” Rai says, his voice flat and neutral. “I can’t believe that’s where they’ve put you.” After a short pause, he adds, “Listen.”

When he doesn’t continue right away, I meet his gaze.

“Can you tolerate it here for just a few more days? Until I get back on my feet?”

“What?” I’m confused.

“You don’t belong here. You need a Touga. And as it happens, I need a Sanga. I’ll take you with me.”

My skin gets hot under my collar when he says this. Why is he asking such a thing?

“I will pay you—split the profits of any bounties with you.”

I don’t know what to say. The very fact he is offering is a kindness I can almost not stand. I can't seem to make any words in reply.

“What’s wrong? You don’t want to leave?”

“I _do_!” I reply, but I’m unable to meet his gaze because I’m trying so hard to hide my tears. “I just… it’s just such a kindness. But I’m sure they would never let me go.”

“Let me try,” Rai says. His hand comes out suddenly and scratches my ear at the base. His hand is so big—and it feels so nice. My heart aches. I can feel the beginnings of a song beneath my skin. It seems he can, too, since his ears perk up. I resist, afraid of Bardo's warning, but I'm afraid it might spill out just the same.

But maybe I’m jumping the gun. I don’t know anything about this cat, except that he was recently injured by a bounty—a demon—he was hunting. He’s reckless! How would I know if I’m safer at his side if my life expectancy will increase with him? I really don’t. I also don’t know his motivation for wanting a Sanga.

“You’ve never paired with me in battle. You don’t know if I’m any good. I’ve never sung for anyone in battle.”

“That doesn’t matter. I know you and I will work well together. I will train you.”

“I’m not a fast learner,” I mutter.

“I gathered as much, from as often as those punishments keep popping up.”

I glare up at his comment, feeling offended.

“They are asking something completely unrealistic!”

“I’m teasing you,” Rai says calmly. He strokes the base of my ears again with his hand. “I don’t mean to offend. They are being too hard on you. You’re a precious Sanga. You need your independence to grow and flourish—and a Touga to help you.”

“Have you worked with a Sanga before?”

“I haven’t _met_ a Sanga before—at least not one on my side,” Rai says. “You’ll be my first.”

Well. I guess that says something. He’s being honest.

“Think about it,” he says again. He actually helps me slip his robe on instead of fighting me.

“Is your bed all right? Do we need new sheets?”

“It’s fine.”

“Okay. Well, I will try to check on you later.”

“Take more of those herbs,” Rai says. “For the tea.”

I do just that while he watches me. I am tempted to make twice the dose just because of how I have been treated today. But I don’t think I really want to be responsible for killing Bardo. Isn’t it enough that he just stay away from me?

While Rai rests on the bed, I start emptying the tub, two buckets at a time. I carry the water out across the hall and dump it down the drain in the restroom. The silver cat looks like he has drifted back to sleep. I'll need help getting the tub out of his room, so I head back downstairs for now.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An update. Konoe is perhaps going overboard with offering Bardo tea but it has the intended effect. Rai is as unhelpful as ever.

I don’t waste any time with the tea. I brew a pot for Bardo and sweeten a cup with honey and add a little cream, bringing it to him with the most submissive expression I can put on my face. I carry it carefully to where Bardo is working on the books for the inn.

“Bardo, sir, um…”

“Finish your chores, kitten?”

“Um, yes, sir, almost. It took a little longer to bathe the guest upstairs than I originally thought—”

“You gave him a bath?”

I jerk up my chin suddenly.

“Sir, you told me to look after him. Gen-san helped me carry the tub upstairs and the guest—well, he shouldn’t be moving.”

“I see.”

“You seem a little tired,” I say softly, setting the mug down next to his books. “I thought you could use some tea. Don’t work too hard.”

Bardo looks up at me suspiciously. It sends a chill down my spine, which settles firmly in my ass and thighs. I am still sore from their punishment earlier today and his expression is frightening. But I look down, trying to stay meek and demure.

“What’s this about?”

“Um, nothing, sir. You just, um, I was just… I was trying to be helpful.”

Bardo doesn’t speak for a moment, but he looks at the tea for a while.

“The punishment at the square. Is it the first time you’ve witnessed it?”

I nod.

“I see. It must have made an impression on you.”

I nod again, keeping my eyes low. I startle slightly when I feel Bardo’s fingers running through the fur on my ears. He’s being gentle, but I can’t help comparing this touch and the feelings behind it with how the silver cat was touching me earlier.

“What happened to your clothes? You’re soaked.”

“Oh.” I step back a little, keeping my eyes on the tea. “The guest upstairs wasn’t very helpful with the bath.”

“Go change. There’s a clean uniform in the wardrobe.”

“Thank you,” I say. I wait just a moment to see if Bardo is going to drink his tea. He hasn’t touched it so far, but I don’t want to raise his suspicions any further. So instead, I obey and head to the bedroom.

I have a mountain of laundry to do—and I get started right after I change my clothes. I wish there was a pair of underwear around here… and I dig around and find something that will work. It’s a fundoshi, and I arrange it appropriately before I slip on the dry pair of pants. It’s not as comfortable as what I usually wear, but it’s better than nothing and I think it isn’t noticeable from outside my clothes.

After hanging all the clean clothes and towels to dry, I head back inside. Bardo isn’t at the reception area anymore, hopefully because the tea has taken effect. I poke my head into the bedroom and sure enough, the old tiger is sound asleep. This will make my afternoon much more pleasant, I think.

When I walk past the reception desk, I notice the books are still open. I’m not too bad with sums, and I catch several errors right away. I take a seat—having finished the chores assigned to me so far—and start going through the books. I get quite absorbed in my task—getting up only when I notice the moon of light is starting to set. I should help Gen with dinner, so I let him know I’ll be in after I check on our injured guest.

Hurrying up the stairs and slightly nervous that I haven’t checked on him since this morning, I use light footsteps in the hall. I really don’t want to bother him if he’s asleep, so I don’t knock. I press my ear up against the door and I don’t hear anything. So I quietly push open the door. It squeaks just a little, but the cat lying on the bed doesn’t move.

He looks sick as if he’s got a fever or an infection. I thought he’d be better after a bath, but he’s still suffering. Maybe I could sing for him just a little—just enough so he feels better but not so much that I can’t move afterward. Before I do, though… I prepare a small dose of medication for him—to manage his pain and fever. I also replenish my own private supply, planning to dose Bardo again as soon as I have the opportunity. I hope he will just feel like he is sick and not catch on that I'm the cause. I can’t imagine what would happen if I got caught spiking his tea.

Walking back to the bed, medication for my patient in hand, I sit down next to him. He still hasn’t moved—though his chest is rising and falling with slow, deep breaths. And gods, he smells weirdly good. Like… I don’t know. His scent is incredible. It raises the fur on my ears and tail.

Very gently, careful not to wake him, I rest my hand between his ears and feel the base. He’s definitely warm, and I’m a little worried. I notice when he opens his eye, looking at me directly. His eye, at least, is clear.

“You’re back.”

Gods, his voice sounds nice in my ears, too. It sends a little shiver down my spine, fluffing up the fur on my tail some more. I smile softly.

“How are you feeling?”

“Hot.”

“I think you have a fever,” I say, handing him the small packet of medicine. “This should help.”

“Actually…”

“It will help pain and prevent infection, too.”

“It isn’t that I don’t appreciate it, but I don’t think it’s going to fix my problem.”

I sigh softly.

“I know it’s bitter. But it really does help you.”

Rai clicks his tongue in mild irritation. “I’d rather hear a song.”

“Well, how about this?” I suggest. “You will take all of this and I will sing for you.”

“I don’t think the fever is from the wound,” Rai says.

“What then? Are you coming down with a cold?”

“Nope.” That pale blue eye looks up at me curiously. I feel like I am missing something, but I have no idea what it could be.

“What?”

He doesn’t reply in words, but his hand comes out and strokes my ears. It feels _so_ good.

“You have a fever, too.”

I shake him off and hand him the medication. I don't, I'm sure. I'm probably just flustered and blushing and I don't appreciate him pointing it out.

“Just take this.”

“You’re so pushy,” Rai complains softly, but he takes the small packet from me. I see him trying not to make a face when he pours the packet into his mouth, but he can’t help it. It’s awfully cute. After he takes it, I offer him a cup of water. I help him drink, making sure he stays reclined. “So. I’m waiting.”

“It can’t be for long,” I say. “I don’t want you to be disappointed. But I can’t be heard, either. And I just, um, have work to do downstairs.”

Rai nods, expectantly—almost like a kitten waiting for a bedtime story. I cannot get the image out of my head. He’s adorable! (And why am I feeling this way? Just because he’s been kind to me? I don’t think so. Gen has been kind, too, for the most part—but it feels like Rai treats me differently. Maybe it's because he's so handsome.)

Closing my eyes, I gently touch his face with both hands: his cheeks, his lips, his nose, and I finally rest over the bandage of the injured eye. I take a deep breath and look deep inside of myself. I can almost see the well of song inside myself—and I carefully, quietly pull up a gentle melody. I envision the silver cat’s eye healing, his temperature decreasing, his pain dissolving… and I let the music spill from my body.

No lyrics this time—just melody and light. It’s soft and warm, and I sense Rai relaxing in an instant. I open my eyes a little, and light is stretching from my body to him—my hands are glowing and warm.

I only sing for a few minutes. I’m afraid to go any longer—and even then, I’m exhausted afterward, as well as a little light-headed. I try to stand up, but Rai pulls me back down to the bed.

“Just wait,” he says. “You need a minute.” After a small pause, he continues, “Your song is so powerful. It drains you to sing—even for a short time—simply because of its strength. You will get better with practice. This will get easier. I can’t imagine what training will do for your song.”

I’m a little surprised to hear the compliment. I am slightly flustered but incredibly flattered as well. I enjoy spending time with this cat—I like how he looks, how he sounds, how he smells, how he feels… part of me wonders what he would taste like. It seems weird to be thinking about this but I just go with it.

“I’ll come back up with dinner later,” I say once I’m able to stand on my own. “Get some rest.”

It hurts my chest to leave this guest’s room. I wish I could stay. Foolishly, I take a quick look over my shoulder before I leave—just before I reach the doorway. Rai is watching me carefully, and he seems pleased I turned around.

“You’re feeling it, too, aren’t you?”

His words are confusing and I don’t hide my bewilderment.

“Feeling what?”

“…”

“What?”

Rai lets out a small sigh—and for the life of me, he looks exasperated. It sends a surprising flash of irritation through my chest. How dare he look at me that way—after all my tender care?

I turn around in a bit of a huff and leave. I think I hear the white cat chuckle softly as I close the door.

When I appear in the kitchen and Bardo isn’t there, Gen is concerned.

“I think he’s sleeping,” I say, keeping my voice quiet.

“I see. Maybe you’ve been wearing him out.”

I don’t reply. Bardo continues sleeping—through the entire supper—which makes serving the meal much more pleasant. He is awake again by the time Gen and I are cleaning up, rubbing the back of his neck with a confused look on his face. He still looks drowsy.

“Ah, good. You got some rest. I hope you're feeling better,” I say, my arms up to my elbows in soapy water. I’m scrubbing pots and pans now. “We saved you some dinner if you like.”

Bardo is looking at me a little curiously—almost suspiciously. But he seems pleased at the status of the kitchen and dining room, sitting down to eat in the kitchen on a bench where he can watch me work.

“Gen, thanks for your help today. You’re free to go.”

Gen nods to me on his way out the door. Bardo waves him off and the door closes firmly.

“Did you check on your patient upstairs?”

“Oh, I need to bring him dinner!” I am suddenly flustered—and I feel terrible because it’s so late now. But he definitely needs to eat.

“Go on. Finish up when you get back.”

I saved Rai a plate, though the food is a little cold now. I’m sure he’ll eat it. I scurry upstairs and head to his room, taking care to lighten my footsteps. I listen at the door but don’t knock. Instead, I just open it, remembering to take care when the hinge squeaks.

“Oy. Don’t you knock,” a grumpy voice growls from the bed.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” I say softly. “Sorry. I’ve brought you some dinner. Gen made it all this evening because Bardo was…” I suddenly am not sure I want to tell Rai that I’ve already drugged Bardo once today and I’m planning to do it again.

“What happened to the old man?”

“Um, he had a little tea after I finished the chores this afternoon,” I say. I don’t meet his gaze. I feel guilty for drugging Bardo— _guilt_. It makes no sense at all! Why would I feel guilty for trying to get out of being raped and beaten?! But I can’t deny it. The guilt is there.

“Do you need more?” Rai’s tone is so casual—and so neutral. He is not judging me. So why do I feel guilty?

“I made some already,” I say. “Here. This is for you.”

I try to set his dinner down on the side of the bed. However, it seems the medication has not yet worn off quite yet—because a powerful arm loops around my neck and pulls me to sit down next to him on the mattress. I nearly tip the entire tray onto the floor—and the gods only know what Bardo will do to me the next time I break a dish!

“Hey! Be careful!”

“Be quiet,” he mutters into my ear—and he licks me. Not a soothing, grooming lick, either. His tongue traces the entire outer shell of my ear and then suddenly invades the soft downy fur deep inside. It startles me—and it sends a weird excitement into my hips. I stiffen my body reflexively, though—and Rai notices. To my disappointment, he pulls away. “You don’t like it?”

A hot, red blush floods my chest, neck, cheeks, and ears when I’m asked so directly. I _do_ actually like it—but I can’t admit it. And isn’t that my function now, to _like_ it? To submit to it? I can’t admit that, either. What I like—what I want—is so far from the picture right now I hardly recognize myself.

I can’t even meet the silver cat’s gaze, but I do hear a soft, muffled sound. It’s soft laughter—which makes me livid in an instant. I glare up at him, eyes blazing, offended that he takes me and my situation so lightly—but then, I get a closer look at his expression. He isn’t teasing me. He looks serious. And he looks _kind_. And he looks… well... He looks _delicious_.

Speaking of delicious… I need to finish what I came here to do and get back downstairs!

“You should eat. I’ll get you some more medication.” He definitely needs it. Maybe a higher dose to help him keep his hands to himself.

“If you don’t like it, maybe don’t use quite so much catnip,” the silver cat advises from his relaxed position on the bed. “It can make the season a little more intense.”

Season? I wonder what he means. I look up quickly for a moment and meet his gaze. He continues.

“It can compound the effects, I mean.”

I still don’t understand. But I look down feeling slightly embarrassed.

“It makes sense. I mean—you sang for me. I could feel a bond with you. It’s natural that you and your body might reciprocate.”

What is natural? I do not understand what he is saying at all, so I just get back to work, gathering up the dishes.

“He’s awake now—downstairs waiting for me. I can’t be late,” I say, trying to let him know I need to go.

“You don’t want to stay?”

Of course, I’d rather stay with him! It’s a ridiculous question! Some amount of frustration or exasperation must be apparent on my face because he smiles at me when I try to give him the freshly made medication once again.

“What’s with that look? Just stay.”

“I can’t. He just woke up and he is really suspicious.”

“Give him some more and convince him he’s sick. Then…”

“Then what?” I ask.

“Then come back up here. Let me help you.”

There’s nothing this gorgeous silver cat can do to help me. Not in his state, anyway.

“You need to rest and get better,” I say, giving him a glass of water. I can’t look away when he makes another childish face because it’s bitter. “Do you want me to add some honey next time?”

I get a rather pointed glare from him in response, and I can’t hold back my own smile.

“Just come back,” Rai says softly, watching me carry the dishes out of the room. I head back downstairs to see what Bardo has planned.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, an update! Sorry for the delay. I have been incredibly blocked and burnt out. Here’s a short chapter update. Konoe is disappointed when the drugs don’t work as quickly on Bardo as he hopes.
> 
> Triggers: non-con touching, humiliation, spanking, threat of rape

Bardo is still awake when I come downstairs—but he’s had most of the dinner and the tea I left out for him. His eyelids are heavy and his entire body looks ridiculously tired. I play along with it to make the most of the situation. I have a craving for the silver cat upstairs that I’m not sure I’m comfortable with—but still. I want to see him.

“Bardo, um, sir,” I start, my voice soft, “you look awfully tired. Are you getting sick? You slept yesterday and today, and I’m concerned for you.” I can’t even begin to describe what sort of effort it takes to speak to him so gently.

“That’s sweet of you, kitten,” he replies, rubbing the back of his neck. “I have been oddly tired lately. I don’t usually sleep that much—as I’m sure you know. Kittens like you need way more sleep than I do.”

“Maybe you’re just getting caught up,” I suggest. “Let me help you to bed.”

“It’s probably the approaching season,” Bardo murmurs, but he allows me to take his arm, which he drapes over my shoulder. He is so heavy! “I think you’ll do _more_ than help me to bed, won’t you?”

I don’t reply, but my ears blush. Of course, that doesn’t go unnoticed, either, and my ears earn a tender little scratch.

“Even after a few days, you’re still so new and fresh,” Bardo says. “We’ve gone so easy on you, too.”

I flatten my ears because I certainly don’t agree with him (or anyone) having gone easy on me. Not for a moment. He’s spanked me on several occasions—and with that damned wooden spoon, which has left me bruised. And he has forced me to serve him sexually. I’ve managed to get out of a few of his other attempts, but I’m a little taken aback by how often he expects me to connect sexually with him.

“Help me undress,” he orders, once I get him to his room. He flops down on the bed unhelpfully, but I take off his shoes and socks, then remove his apron. He actually slept in his apron for that long afternoon nap. I move slowly—pretending to use lots of tender care but really, my purpose is to wait for that medication to work. “Go on.”

Hesitating, I obey. I help him pull off his shirt, unbutton his trousers, leaving him in his underwear. All the while, I’m thinking, _please, please just work! Go to sleep!_

“Why don’t you join me for another cup of tea?” The tiger yawns again.

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly,” I say, relieved to hear he’s interested in more tea. It will give me another chance to drug him. “It interferes with my sleep if I have it so close to bedtime. But I can fetch you some more if you’d like?”

“Please.”

I leave the room—heading back to the kitchen to prepare more tea—and I drug it again. I add a little honey to it and it smells nice. I carry it on a tray back to the bedroom, including the teapot and the cup I’ve prepared. It doesn’t even occur to me that there might be a maximum dose that is effective for cats and that I might be putting Bardo’s life at risk by giving him so much. It’s possible that even if it did occur to me, I wouldn’t care.

Bardo is sitting up in bed, a sheet draped over his bare legs when I return. I offer him the tea and set the tray down next to the bed.

“Sit a little closer, kitten.”

“Oh, I was just thinking that if you were ill, I wouldn’t want to get sick. Who would take care of the inn then?”

“How thoughtful of you, sweetheart. But I didn’t hand off that chunk of change to Virus in order for you to sit so far away. That’s not why you’re here.”

Reluctantly, I scoot a little closer, and his arm reaches out and pulls me in further. I’m sitting right next to him on the bed—still dressed.

“Actually, why don’t you strip for me?” He slurps another sip of tea.

I’m heavily embarrassed, but I stand up and obey. I turn away when I untie my top, but he growls from the bed, “Turn around. I want to watch.”

This is horrible—mortifying, I think. But I obey, hoping that the tea will work soon. I gingerly strip out of my pants as well—leaving me in nothing but the fundoshi.

“Where did that come from? I don’t remember authorizing underwear,” Bardo says. “Take that off. And then fetch the spoon from the kitchen.”

My stomach feels full of lead.

“B-but please,” I beg. “I was j-just trying to be m-modest—”

“I didn’t _pay_ for you to be modest. I paid for an obedient slave to help me in the inn and in the bedroom. You need to learn that the thinking is now done for you—by your master.” He stretches his arms out overhead and yawns again, as if to ward off his exhaustion.

Biting my lip and holding back tears, I head into the kitchen. I’m naked, so I don’t exactly take my time. I’m scared another customer will see me. But I don’t want to hurry, either—since I know exactly what that spoon is about to do and I’m hoping that Bardo will go to sleep before he can see the punishment through.

I carry the spoon back to the bedroom and give it to Bardo, unable to meet his eyes. I’m so angry—and scared—I can’t decide which emotion I’m feeling more.

“Lie down on your back,” he orders.

I’m a little surprised to hear that command—and then I worry that he might spank the front of my thighs. While I hesitate, he barks at me, “I said, lie down. _Now_.”

I obey instantly. I hate being naked in the same room as this cat. Actually, I don’t like being in the same room with him even when I’m dressed.

My legs are grabbed by the ankles, pulled up toward the headboard. It’s an unstable position and my stomach muscles keep trying to clench to give myself better balance.

“Just relax. It will hurt worse if you’re all stiff like this.”

A hand caresses my bare ass—fingering what I assume are the bruises left from earlier today—and fingers ghost across my entrance. He hasn’t fucked me since this morning—after he brutally spanked me because I was crying. I take special care not to cry now—even as humiliated as I feel. I saw what happened to disobedient slaves in the market square this morning. Even if I’m not pleasing him now, I don’t want to make it worse. I relax my legs a little and my body is bent in half sharply, exposing more of my ass.

“It’s way more intimate like this, isn’t it?” Bardo purrs softly, caressing me with the spoon. A frightened chill shivers down my spine. My tail is quivering, too, trembling at the base, my fur fluffed out and frightened. My body has been feeling weird. I don’t know if it’s because of trauma or what, but I feel feverish and sick.

And he doesn’t wait any longer—just starts whacking my ass with that spoon. Because of this position, I can’t flex my muscles since they are stretched as it is, and I feel utterly helpless and humiliated. I don’t know what to do with my hands. Though I’m sorely tempted to cover up, I resist and dig my claws into the bed on either side of my body. The fingers on my right hand are still sore from when he hit my hand earlier. I do my best not to cry right away—but within about four strokes, I’m not only weeping real tears, I’m actually suppressing screams. It really hurts!

Part of me can’t believe that he’s able to spank me after all that medication—and I wonder if it’s worse because Bardo is so tired. He doesn’t have the same control, and in this position, it puts my private parts at a frightening risk. I want to pull away and struggle, but I know the tiger is much too tired and isn’t paying close attention. I don’t want to risk injury.

I’m begging softly—apologizing and pleading—since I’m not sure exactly what I’m being punished for—but it occurs to me that he is slowing down. Finally—and really, it hasn’t been that long, only a few minutes—the spanks slow down and stop. My ass feels like it’s on fire, especially when his large hand squeezes my freshly bruised skin. He brushes over the top of my asshole again, sending an unpleasant shiver down my spine.

“Perfect. I should have you on display like this,” Bardo says. The thought of being forced to be on display naked—especially after a spanking—is particularly mortifying to me. Thank the gods the guests are mostly asleep.

“I-i’m s-sorry,” I stammer. I regret the disobedience—and what was this for anyway? I can’t even remember! I just don’t want to be spanked for any reason at all. I’m also still optimistic that the tea I gave him should be working by now.

“You can make it up to me,” he says, stretching his arms overhead and giving his legs and tail a long stretch as well. He looks exhausted. I’m almost hoping that he will fall over and hit his head from exhaustion, but even I’m not that optimistic. “Go ahead. Prepare yourself. If you like, I mean. Figure it might hurt less that way.”

I don’t understand what he is asking and my confusion is obvious. I look around for some clue—and then it hits me.

“I think you know what I’m asking,” the tiger purrs. “I’m going to fuck you. If you don’t want it to hurt, you’ll obey. I like to watch.”

“Um… I haven’t, um, I haven’t done that before,” I say, keeping my gaze low and my voice soft. I’m still lying on my back in bed. I have no idea how I might go about doing something like that.

“You don’t _have_ to do it. This is just for your own comfort. However, I’m going to fuck you either way, and I don’t have the energy to prepare you tonight.”

My ears flatten. That sounds horrifying.

“Just touch yourself to start,” he says, giving another wide yawn.

I’m still lying back on the bed, and he roughly pulls me to the side of the bed.

“Kneel up. Straddle my lap,” Bardo orders, after lying down, back against the wall behind the bed.

I obey without hesitating. The room is dim, but still light enough to easily make out my form, I’m sure.

“Go on.”

I’m not at all aroused—well, that’s a bit of a lie. I am aroused—but I’m sure I don’t mean to be. My dick is only half hard, but it won’t seem to get any more excited, even when I run my fingers across the head. I glance up just for a second, and I catch the tiger’s amber gaze resting on my groin.

I sigh softly—closing my eyes. The instant I do, an image of the silver cat appears in my head. I almost get a whiff of his clean, fresh scent (mixed with the metallic scent of blood), and I imagine I hear his purr. It sends a wave of arousal through my body and I stiffen easily. My fingers feel nice—and I’m going at a nice, slow pace.

More than anything, I am craving the silver cat’s touch—and the tiger isn’t meeting that need. But my fantasy is almost enough. I’m confused by my body which still feels just a little feverish and sick.

“I don’t have all night,” Bardo says, interrupting my groove. I look up and meet his incredibly tired gaze. His lids are really heavy. I slowcdown and stop what I’m doing, taking the empty mug from his hands.

“You’re exhausted,” I say, my voice soft and gentle. “You shouldn’t overdo it. Here. Let me help you.”

I help him lie back against the pillow. He resists at first, but the minute his head hits the pillow, he closes his eyes. He’s snoring in another minute.

I wait one extra minute before I get dressed. I just slip into the trousers and top before I head back upstairs to check on my patient. I know very well checking on him isn’t the only thing I plan to do.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, Konoe gets a little much-needed love.
> 
> Consensual sex (and shitty writing) follows.

On the second floor, the injured cat’s room pulls me like a magnet. It smells good and it feels right—and I’m sure this is just because he has been kind to me. As I creep quietly toward Rai’s room, the door at the opposite end of the hallway opens and that other silver-haired cat pokes his head around the door. He is the cat who made me break those dishes and got me publicly spanked this morning, and I am absolutely repulsed by his presence. So I ignore him, not speaking a word, though he watches my movements like a hawk.

I knock softly on Rai’s door and enter before I hear a response.

“Are you awake?” I whisper. I don’t mean to wake him—at least, I think I _shouldn’t_. But that’s when I notice something has changed in the room since I was last here.

The air feels thick and hazy—and it smells heavenly. I can’t smell a whiff of blood or medicinal herbs—only the larger silver cat’s fresh and welcoming scent. It sinks into my body as though he is physically touching me, and my cock stiffens beneath the thin fabric of my trousers.

I know _exactly_ why I am here, and it’s not to check this cat’s wounds. I want him to touch me. More than anything, I _crave_ his touch.

The pale rays from the moon of shadow shine through the window, and they land on the cat's lovely hair splayed out on the pillow behind him. The soft warm light of the lamp on the wall is turned down, so I can see him clearly. He's awake now, anyway.

“Mmm.”

He purrs softly, sitting up and rubbing his eyes—an unguarded mannerism—and meets my gaze. His eye appears to glow in the low light, and his hair drifts softly around his body. His robe barely covers him. While I’d normally look away, it’s painful to stop gazing at him—all that pale white skin underneath the soft fabric, sash still tied at his waist but doing the bare minimum to conceal him.

“You came.”

I don’t say anything, but I move to the bed quickly—hoping he won’t get up. I need to _touch_ him. My body _needs_ this. The closer I get, the more I experience the impulse. And it’s strange—unfamiliar—to feel desire when I want to feel it rather than when it’s being forced from me. But I do. I want him to touch me—sexually.

“How’s your eye?” I ask, and my voice spills out in a husky tone, making his ears twitch. Even I know I’m not _really_ worried about his eye.

“It’s fine—I’ve been having other distracting symptoms.”

“Have you,” I say without inflecting the phrase as a question.

“Is the old man asleep?”

“Dead to the world,” I confirm, wishing that he was _actually_ dead. I sit down on the mattress close to the gorgeous silver cat.

Now, I’m not really sure what to do. I am overcome with hesitation that borders on fear. I know exactly what I want and what my body needs, but Rai doesn’t seem to be aware. Well, maybe that’s not true. He is watching me carefully, a soft glint in his eye making it shine like a precious gem.

“Are you here for the reason I think you are?” His question is tentative and hesitant, almost cute, indicating he is afraid of rejection.

“I—um—I...” I stutter at first and then finish my sentence quickly. “I was, um, just checking on you before I went to bed.”

“Were you.” His turn to not ask my intentions is about as obvious as it can be. A few moments pass before he speaks again. “You aren’t here to relieve your symptoms?”

I jerk my chin up to meet his gaze, but I'm so surprised by his directness that I don't answer. I shouldn't be surprised. This cat is nothing if not direct.

“I’m suffering, too. I think I mentioned earlier.” His words are spoken calmly, but I don't miss a certain eagerness in his tone.

“It’s not a cold,” I admit.

“It most certainly isn’t. And there is a clear solution your symptoms. And mine.”

“You said you’d help me.” He did. He said he'd help me, offered his assistance when I last checked on him. It's why I'm here now.

“This is your first season, isn’t it?”

Before I can stop myself, I echo his word, “Season?”

“ _Mating_ season,” he clarifies, and somehow the idea that I would go into heat like a female sends an aggressive burst of rage through my chest.

“I’m _not_ a female,” I snap.

“Oh, I’m well aware. If you were, I’m sure I wouldn’t be feeling like this and you wouldn't be here now.”

My ears perk up, curious now, but I don’t say anything.

“You don’t know about the mating season?”

“I do. Of course, I do,” I reply instantly, feeling my cheeks heat up. Truly, though—I’m sure my trousers are loose enough in the front, so I have no idea how he can tell what my body seems to be craving what it is right now. I'm sure he can't see my erection. “Mating season is so females can get pregnant.”

“Well, that may be its purpose, but males suffer symptoms, too.”

This is news to me, and the confusion shows clearly on my face. Rai sits up a little straighter and meets my eye.

“It happens twice a year, starting around your age,” he explains, his voice gentler and more patient than I’ve ever heard it. “It lasts about seven days.”

“I’m going to feel like this for a _week_?!” I can’t keep the disappointment (and terror, to be honest) out of my voice.

“Not if you act on it. And I suppose... Well, probably what has been done to you could make your symptoms more extreme, especially since you were forced to engage in sexual activity before your body was physically ready.”

I blush again, feeling a wave of humiliation at the memory of how I was handled at Halfway. All those horrible things...

“You were purchased for that purpose, I’d assume?” He continues, keeping his voice non-judgmental and neutral.

I nod.

“And they probably showed you what to expect from the physical act? Perhaps forced it on you? Maybe even made you practice?”

I nod again, a little weirded out by how he can tell.

“How do you know?”

“I could hear it—your, um, unwillingness and desperation in that song. I should have broken in. I knew what you were. You should never have been treated like that.”

I agree, but that was then. It happened. A lot has happened. He is talking about when Verg was fucking me for that stupid scavenger hunt—when my song first appeared.

“I know I didn’t sing that loud. How could you even hear me?”

“I was on a hunt and happened to be in the city at the right time. I’m a Touga. My training allows me to detect an unpaired Sanga from a mile away.”

“I see,” I say and think for a moment. I'm still not certain about the whole Sanga thing. Truthfully, I wish he’d stopped to save me then, too—but I suppose he didn’t know any details and he is only one cat. “So... does everyone feel like this right now?”

“It’s not like that. There are differences in hormones and wavelengths, and when a compatible cat comes across your path, your body lets you know. Didn’t the old man try to touch you this evening?”

I don’t respond. I don’t even look at him.

“I can smell him on you.”

I do look up at that, doubtfully.

“You have a pretty sensitive sense of smell if you think you can smell him on me.”

“I do. It’s handy for my job. Makes tracking prey easier.”

“Hmm.” There's something incredibly sexy about this cat tracking prey. The thought stays in the back of my mind, making my neck tingle.

“I’d guess you are not compatible with him, but he still felt the pull. Do you feel different around me?”

I nod. 

“You know, I can help you. We can take care of all these symptoms. You’ll feel much better.”

I look up, unable to keep the frightened look of my face. To my surprise, he reaches out a hand and rests it on my cheek. I flinch when a short burst of static electricity bursts through my face, right where he is touching me. My ears flatten and I feel confused.

“It won’t hurt. If you’re compatible with another cat, you don’t feel any pain. And, um, we don’t even have to do that particular act. Although, in my experience, it resolves the symptoms better than anything else.”

My ears are burning up and my cheeks are hot. His hand feels nice on my face. And it's why I'm here, isn't it? He runs his claws through the fur on my tail with his other hand. Another sharp static shock from his fingertips bristles my fur.

“I like your tail,” he whispers.

A few moments pass like this—as I struggle with my thoughts. My body feels hot and I know what it needs. It’s just so foreign, and I’m afraid. It was impulsive for me to come up here. If this is anything like what Bardo has done—what Verg has done—even what Aoba has done, I’m frightened.

“Listen. I don’t want to pressure you. But it would help me, too.”

“Okay.” To my shock, consent escapes my mouth before I can stop it as if my body has a will of its own. My instincts take over all logical reasoning about why I can’t and _shouldn’t_ give into them.

“Do you just want me to touch you?” Rai asks, and I am not exactly sure what he means.

“Well, you’d _have_ to touch me to do, um, that, wouldn’t you?”

“No. Not necessarily. You could touch yourself.”

I didn't even consider that as an option. It sounds interesting, being able to take care of it (or anything, really) by myself. But then I realize what he means and my face pales.

“In _front_ of you?!”

A soft, gentle smile spreads across his face when he hears the horror in my voice.

“Well, it would resolve your symptoms faster than if you were alone. But no. It doesn’t _have_ to be in front of me.” He shifts slightly—and he moves in a way that signifies slight discomfort. “I don’t _have_ to touch you. But you could touch me if you like. I'd like that, too.”

A small shudder courses through my body at the suggestion. And I can’t get the image of his pale, nude body out of my head—dripping with soap, glistening with water. I think I _do_ want to touch him.

Gently shaking my head, I pat my cheeks with both hands, pulling away from his hand for a second. I need to be honest with myself. I am curious about what he meant when he said it wouldn’t hurt. But I know what I need and what I want.

“I think...” I start, and he meets my gaze, his remaining eye eager. “I think I want you to touch me.” It's why I'm here, after all.

In response, his pupil dilates wider than I’ve ever seen it. A fresh burst of his calming, fresh scent floods my nose. He must be sweating, too—that’s the only explanation. And he... _wants_ to touch me, wants me to touch him. Doesn’t he know what has been done to me? It sounded like he did, so I don't understand.

“I, um, I have been used well—er, harshly—over the past few days.”

He nods once then tilts his head to the side.

“Doesn’t it—don’t _I_ —disgust you?” My voice softens. I’m asking a question I really don’t want an answer to, but I can't help it.

“Why would it?” He replies instantly—without hesitation. “What? You think I haven’t done this before? While I’ve probably had more _consensual_ experiences than you have, I understand what has been forced on you. I don’t hold you responsible for _any_ of it. And even if you consented and even enjoyed it, wouldn’t it be hypocritical of me to hold it against you? When I have experience of my own?”

That’s the most he’s ever said to me at once. And he's not finished.

“You look intelligent, but you have little common sense,” he says—and it’s not mean. He is just stating a fact. And I think I might secretly agree and I can’t keep a smile from my lips.

“You’re calling me stupid. And you think... you think _that_ is going to make me want to fuck you?”

“I know you _already_ want me to fuck you,” he corrects, returning my smile. “And I think you might agree with my assessment.”

I laugh out loud and then quickly cover my mouth.

“You sure don’t beat around the bush.”

“Do you have some reason to be indirect?”

“I guess not,” I admit sheepishly. “So... um, how is this going to work?”

“If you have traumatic history—and the gods know, if you’ve spent _any_ time in the old man’s bed, that’s got to be traumatic in itself—I suggest we take things slowly. If I do anything you don’t like, just ask me to stop, and I will.”

Somehow, I trust him. I know he means well and that he will do what he says he will do.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not going to force you. But if you’re uncomfortable, I’m happy to take the lead.”

I’m _very_ uncomfortable. But then, a soft, tender feeling sinks into my chest. It feels... relieved? Grateful? Accepted? Thankful for his attention and concern? I take a deep breath and I relax.

“Okay,” I say.

“Okay to what?”

“To you taking the lead. I’ll stop you if I need to.”

“You won’t need to. This will feel good,” he assures me, pulling me closer on the bed. He moves his hand from my tail to the small of my back and the other to my chin. He tilts my face up ever so gently and presses his lips against mine. He feels both soft and hot—and the tenderness comes as an utter shock. He licked my ears earlier, but this is completely unexpected.

A soft sound fills the room—something between a meow and a whine—and I twitch my ears in surprise when I realize the sound is coming from _me_. I’m startled but I can’t help it. My body wants this— _longs_ for this—and the tender touch is wonderful. I relax my jaw and let my voice spill of its own accord, feeling the warm muscle of his tongue exploring my mouth. The hand on my back moves to my head, pulling me in even closer and deepening the kiss. It is slightly suffocating but also soothing, especially as my nerves settle.

“Please...” I whisper once he pulls away.

“You can ask me for anything,” he whispers against my lips and then pulls away to meet my gaze.

“Touch me more,” I say, shyly looking down at the space between us. Because of how I’m situated on the bed, my eyes naturally land on his lap, still barely covered with his robe—and then I realize what I’m looking at. I can't withhold a gasp. “Oh, my gods.”

“What?” He tips my chin up to meet his gaze.

“That is _not_ going to fit. This is going to _hurt_!” I saw his cock before, but it wasn't quite in this state, nowhere near so large. I can’t suppress the tears in my eyes or my voice, and I’m suddenly terribly discouraged. Weird, that it's _discouragement_ and not fear.

“It’s _not_ going to be painful—not when we're both in heat like this. Listen to your body. It knows and feels the rut, even if you’re nervous.”

I quiet for a moment and take a deep breath, paying attention to the confused feelings in my body. My heart pounds in my ears, my cock is at full attention, pre-cum moistening the front of my pants. My body is acting weird—it _wants_ that. More than anything, I _want_ to feel that giant cock inside of me. I shudder again, frightened of my feelings, goosebumps flowing down my limbs. Then I hear his soft voice.

“I just want...”

Now it’s my turn to meet his gaze, but though the silver cat is speaking, he averts his eye for a moment.

“I just want to _comfort_ you. Let me make love to you—show you that sex isn’t a bad thing.”

 _Make love_? My ears fill with a fresh blush which deepens when he meets my gaze. It sounds so romantic, a different act than anything that has been forced on me so far.

“This _won’t_ be like anything you’ve had so far.” It almost feels like he can read my mind. It's spooky. He's waiting for my consent, though, which is another foreign experience.

I nod again, and I relax a little more.

His hand slips underneath my shirt and it feels cold against my skin. My belly tries to arch away from the chill, but my skin seems to do the opposite, as though it craves more contact. He caresses me gently—touching my skin with his hand flat—and it makes me feel like a _person_. Not like the piece of property I am. He pulls another soft sigh from my mouth and I reach up to kiss him again, grabbing his cheeks and pulling him in close.

His hands wander under my shirt, caressing my stomach and back, and it feels _good_. I’m shocked at the comforting, soothing touch—his hands cooling my burning body—and I realize I want to touch him, too. I reach into the robe to touch his chest, feeling firm muscle beneath smooth skin. I find several scars—probably from battle—but his body feels _right_. It isn’t long before the sash holding his robe together falls from his narrow waist to the bed.

When it does, he pulls away from my kiss for a moment and tugs on the hem of my shirt.

“May I?”

I nod, helping him undress me. His hands feel urgent but not demanding—and it’s a strange sensation. It’s very nearly painful, how hard my heart beats in my chest. My body is doing something else weird—my chest feels tight and congested, and something flutters beneath my skin.

Taking more initiative, I listen to my instincts. _I want him naked_. I want to see all of him under the lamp flickering softly from across the room. I slip the robe from his shoulders and let out an impressed breath. It was only earlier today when I saw him undressed for the bath. Right now, I can’t believe I’ve waited so long to do this, to see him again, to touch him.

His abs are perfectly sculpted, whether flexed or relaxed. A part of my mind fills with envy—because I know if I had his form, I’d never be in my current predicament. His chest ripples with muscles, even with the small movements of his hands, and his skin is burning up—easily as hot as mine. Is this attraction to _me_? Am _I_ the cause of his arousal?

And speaking of arousal... I let my eyes flutter toward his groin once more. His cock is fully erect—at least, I hope it is because anything bigger than that... well. Never mind. I need to trust him. I push the thought away. A bead of precum glitters at the slit and he looks... enticing. After being forced to suck the cocks of the strangers who visited me during my debut and how _repulsive_ that was, I don’t feel _anything_ like revulsion. In fact...

I lean down, slowly, moving my lips to his throat then to his chest and abs, heading toward the trail of silver fur just below his navel. I indulge my desire and instincts, letting my tongue comb through the fine hair—and a sound that isn’t me sinks into my ears. It’s _hot_ —and his cock twitches as though begging for attention. Mine responds in kind.

“Come,” he says and I look up.

His hands are on the string of my pants and I let him untie them. But I stand up and strip them off myself, keeping my face down at first when I hear another soft sound. It sounds like a sigh—one of admiration. It makes me look up at him curiously.

“You’re beautiful. Your body is perfect. And these pink ears—shit. _Totally_ my type.”

Averting my eyes in shyness, I realize how bright the room is now. I realize he hasn’t seen me naked before. He doesn’t act shy about his nakedness, so perhaps I don’t need to, either. His hands feel nice against my skin, but my chest feels tighter and tighter, my ears throbbing with blood pulsing through my veins. _I want him._

I give in a little—meaning to make him more comfortable on the bed. But I remember how Aoba took me—how he rode me—and how nice it felt. I wonder if I might do the same. While I’m still wondering, I’ve roughly pushed him down on the mattress, kissing and licking and nipping his mouth, his jaw, his throat. My claws pull through his gorgeous hair, being careful not to touch the bandage around his head. His hair is silky and soft and perfect. And he smells so nice, like the forest after a spring rain.

“Hang on,” he whispers when my legs straddle his thighs. “On the nightstand...”

I look up and see a small jar. Questioning, I pick it up.

“Let me have that.”

I watch as he opens the jar and scoops out a small amount of slick substance with his fingers. It doesn’t have an unpleasant smell, but I’m a little nervous when his hand disappears behind my body. My ears flatten, but then an utterly indulgent feeling dissolves that fear. His other hand is wrapped around both our cocks, stroking them together gently. His hand feels cool, but his cock is hot.

“I want to prepare you, just the same. Even if you’re in heat, I don’t want you to be sore tomorrow.”

Meaning to agree, another soft meow escapes my lips. His touch is utterly overwhelming, almost consuming, heat sparking up my spine, goosebumps shivering across my skin, the ghost of touch just beneath my tail. It’s surprisingly pleasant and warm, quickly being fanned to a flame. I realize that I _want_ him inside me. I try to relax, even as sweat prickles my skin. His nostrils flare subtly, as though he smells my renewed scent—and I wonder if I smell as delicious to him as he smells to me.

I normally don’t smell my own scent. At my home in Karou, there was a familiar warm scent that would hang in the air and welcome me home every time I returned from an errand or hunt. It smelled like honey or hay—sort of a summery scent. But now, it mixes in the air with the fresh rain and it smells wonderful, making my mouth water.

Distracted by the sensation against my cock and the fragrance in my nose, my body jerks when a finger presses inside the tight ring of muscle back there. It feels _right_ and I moan softly.

“Does it hurt?”

“Mmm... no...” I’m struggling to form coherent words and I really do _not_ care. My caution disintegrates against the gentle touch on my rear as well as the firmer strokes enveloping my cock. His finger barely even feels intrusive—my insides are trying to pull him deeper inside.

“Tell me if it does,” he whispers against my lips. “It shouldn’t hurt.”

Weird, I think. Sex that _isn’t_ painful? Or humiliating? I can’t quite wrap my brain around it. It’s probably my last coherent thought as the heat inside my body starts to burn through my reasoning.

“Let me hear your voice.”

My spine suddenly stiffens and then curls in on itself as my chest contracts painfully. I let out a low groan—and Rai stops his movement, two fingers sunk deep inside my body. It’s as if he has called forth the song inside me. I’m not intending to sing, but surely, that is what is about to happen.

“Are you—?”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish before my song suddenly spills, jerking my body in a violent tremor. It brightens the room in a flash of warm light, which quickly transforms into slender tendrils, like a spider’s web, only all aimed directly for the silver cat giving me this pleasure. There’s a warmth in the song and I feel stripped to the bone, as though my physical body drops away and leaves my feelings exposed and bare.

I am grateful for his touch. I love the tenderness. I want more—and my body is eager. That is what I hear in my song. When his dick hardens even more against my own, I feel his pulse throbbing against my erection. It feels _so_ good, so _right_ —as though my body knows exactly what it needs and wants.

He doesn’t pause for long, but I hear it—his pleased gasp when the melody sinks into his ears. I feel his emotions—a strange soft tenderness for me that doesn’t feel anything like pity, as well as a heated passion I don’t quite understand. I say quite because I think my body actually _does_ understand and feels the same. This is where I belong, my song seems to say. And I believe exactly the same thing. That is when his fingers are no longer enough.

“I want more.” My voice sounds strange among the soft melody that spills from my skin. This is not a song I’ve sung before—not one of fear, not a cry for help, not a healing balm. This is desperation—a desperate for more connection, more touch—for, to be frank, his giant cock inside me. “I want you inside me.”

He meets my gaze—and the look on his face is a mix of utter indulgence and eagerness—both in letting me do as I please and his enjoyment of my touch. He shifts me back a little, withdrawing his hands from inside my body and from our cocks, stabilizing my hips.

“Slowly,” he says, watching me carefully.

The next sound that escapes my body is a mix of moans, sighs, gasps, and purrs, laced with an occasional meow. I just let my voice come naturally, even as embarrassing as it will be later. I know that even as good as it feels to let go, release my tension, my lust, my voice, I will be ashamed of my actions later. But I just can’t stop.

I also don’t move as carefully or as slowly as he suggests. My body feels impossibly full as he presses inside me, but it’s an utterly wonderful and indulgent feeling—like my body knows that I will soon be relieved of my symptoms and it’s making the most of the feelings in the meantime. It isn’t long before I’m resting my ass on his hips, swallowing his cock, which twitches and pulses inside me. He is panting, his face drawn in pleasure and his eye drifted partway closed, long lashes fluttering, as though unable to keep from watching me.

I realize I _want_ him to watch. I _want_ him to look. I _want_ him to feel like this.

Once he is fully seated inside me, I take a rest, allowing my body to adjust. I feel full but he was right—to my shock, I don’t feel any pain. I also feel like I am in control, and he is just along for the ride. It’s an impossibly powerful feeling and one I could really get used to. Suddenly, the crude words I heard in the streets—comments about sex and the mating ritual—make perfect sense. Now I understand the obsession with the act when it never made sense to me before. I think... I think I might actually _have_ a libido.

I lean forward a little to press my lips to his, and Rai moans softly as I do, sending a wave of pleasure down my spine. His voice affects me physically, making my song pulse strangely, adding a gentle rhythm that corresponds to my heartbeat. I just can’t believe how _right_ all of this feels, how much I _need_ this, how much I _want_ this.

When I start rocking my hips, using shallows movements, and trying to find a tentative rhythm, something happens to the silver cat. It feels like some sort of restraint has fallen off—and the moment it happens his hips thrust up from beneath me. The sudden movement brushes a spot inside me that makes lights flash on the back of my eyelids. I can’t help the sound that comes out, and I widen my eyes and flush in embarrassment.

I meet a single eye watching me, a smug smirk on his plush lips, and he looks quite pleased with himself. He reaches out to my face and traps my chin so I can't avert my face, and then he thrusts up again. I cry out helplessly and meet his eye, the pupil dilated so wide that only a narrow rim of blue peeks out around the dark, lusty gaze. He hums softly, pleased, and pulls me in for another kiss.

When our lips meet, he thrusts up again, sending pleasure sparking up my back and down to my fingers, toes, and the tips of my ears and tail. My fur bristles, my claws draw, my fangs bare—and I’m quickly at his mercy.

He doesn’t slow or stop, picking up the pace and taking over for us both. My efforts to move on my own have been overwhelmed with the rough pace he has set. Confused, erotic gasps stream from my lips, leaving me breathless. And for the life of me, as punishing a pace he has set, I am experiencing nothing but pleasure—which further stokes the fire of lust inside my core.

When he releases my chin, I drop my face, unable to maintain the eye contact he demanded earlier. But I have no time to actually feel the shame I should be feeling, my lewd body and voice sounding at each movement. The tenderness I feel emanating from him, entering me through the tendrils of light surrounding us, heats up and melts into something much hotter and much more urgent.

It isn’t long before the pleasure becomes nearly unbearable. And I lean in close to his chest to let him nip my ears. His tongue squishes loudly inside, and his panting breaths are laced with heat and desire. When his hand squeezes the base of my tail, it sends another type of pleasure through my body, making my insides squeeze his cock and me question my sanity. And then he grabs my cock.

“Are you—about to—come?” His voice is low and hot, yet it sends a chilly ripple into my shoulders just before he delves his tongue into my ear. I wrap my arms around his broad chest, unable to retract my claws. Instead, I dig into the smooth skin of his upper back. His voice hitches and I feel him holding back. The fact that I helped get him to this state electrifies me.

The pleasure inside my body swirls around, craving and finding release. My song rises to a fever pitch and melts deep inside my chest. When I find my release, a violent burst of pleasure spills through my body, filling my body with liquid heat that pours through my limbs and out my cock. I have never come this hard before—my climax wracks my body and soul, my muscles twitch and vibrate, and I clench up tight around Rai’s cock.

He follows right after me, spilling hot and deep inside me—and the sensation is actually pleasant, not the disgusting feeling I remember from Halfway. This feels like a new sensation and a new experience, and it warms me up from the inside. When we have both finished, my body collapsed against his chest with his cock still inside me, still erect and pulsing, he pulls me tight against him as he leans back against the headboard.

I take a few moments to compose myself, and I find I can’t quite manage it. My breath is still panting and unexpectedly, it starts to hitch. My eyes burn and the back of my throat heats up, and to my dismay, a loud sob escapes. Tightening my lips to cut off the sound doesn’t help. Tears are already leaking from my eyes as much as Rai’s seed drips down inside me, leaking down my thighs.

He starts, pulling me closer after pulling his cock from me, leaving me feeling weirdly empty and alone. But then, his embrace forces our chests together and he moves his hands across my back, the warm emotions I’ve been feeling come out even more obviously—and my song quiets into something vulnerable.

“Hey,” he whispers, and I hear the nerves tremor subtly in his tone. “Are you all right? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He sounds full of concern, and all I can do is nod.

“Yeah,” I say in between my sobbing breaths. “I’m fine. I’m _more_ than fine. I just...”

He waits for me to finish my thought, but when I don’t, he prompts me, squeezing me closer and saying, “You just...?”

“I just didn’t know it could feel like that,” I breathe softly. As soon as I stop my tears, I realize how much harm has actually been done to me—and what exactly was harmed and why. The amount of control that place has over me—what they did to me, what they _took_ from me—the violence when it could have felt like this? I feel irreparably broken and ruined—despite the wonderful experience I just had. With Rai. With this gorgeous, tender, sometimes grumpy cat.

My thoughts follow that lead—I was able to experience pleasure, true pleasure, in this act. Maybe I’m _not_ thoroughly ruined. Maybe I’m _not_ beyond repair. Perhaps all I needed was the right partner, a partner I chose, to gently coax me to this place. Fresh tears fall when I realize what we were able to accomplish together. Relief and hope rise in my chest, spilling out with my tears, and I cuddle in as close to the strong and gentle body below me.

“It’s all right. You’re all right. You’re going to be all right,” Rai whispers into my ears, and I nod, unable to form words. I want him to know I’m all right. Once the tears dry up, I hear him speak again.

“You are wonderful. Perfect. I’ve never felt anything like that before. You are meant for me.”

How I wish I could believe that! I feel that exactly—but I can’t allow myself to actually believe it when the harsh reality of who and what I am now settles on me. Perhaps—maybe just for one night—it might be all right to pretend to be who I used to be. I let Rai pull me down in the bed, keeping me tight against his chest, grooming my ears, rubbing my back, and teasing my tail gently. I let him soothe me and I fall into it and into the deepest slumber I have experienced since I first arrived in this awful, cruel city.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short and brutal update. Konoe is discovered and punished.
> 
> Trigger warnings abound: humiliation and public flogging, to name a few.

I sleep late the next morning. When I wake, I’m wrapped up in Rai’s powerful arms, enjoying his comforting scent. I blink slowly in the bright light, slightly worried that I have been missed. I’d best get back downstairs. Looking outside, the moon of light is high in the sky, meaning it must be late morning and I must have missed breakfast.

“Shit,” I whisper. “I have to get up. I slept way too long.” I nervously get up and throw on my clothes, as Rai watches from the bed. I hand him his robe, which he hesitates putting on. He’s is too busy watching me. Normally, I might be annoyed, but he is _admiring_ me, which I cannot fully comprehend.

“Come back anytime. I hope I didn't get you in trouble. I’m sorry I didn’t wake you,” Rai murmurs, leaning toward me while I sit on the bed to shove my feet into my sandals. “You just looked like you needed the rest.”

“I did. Thank you. I’m just nervous I’ve been missed,” I explain. “Let me prepare your medication before I go.” I also need to make more to drug Bardo later. I want to come back to Rai. Tonight if possible.

My mind is wandering, wondering how the hell I will explain my absence to Bardo, assuming he’s realized I’ve been gone all night. I prepare a dose of medication for Rai, which he takes gratefully. I’m astonished that while I’m still covered in his scent and a bit sticky, my body doesn’t hurt at all. Well, my muscles are sore, but otherwise, I feel quite good. I even have a slight spring in my step.

Rai smiles at me when he watches me slip the second envelope—the one I intend to use on Bardo—into my shirt.

“I can’t wait to see you later,” he purrs. I smile and blush—and why the hell I am blushing at that comment is beyond me, considering what we have already done. But I duck my head and back out of the room, almost putting my foot into a breakfast tray waiting in front of Rai’s door. I bend down and pick it up, leaving it carefully on the nightstand. _Fuck_. I missed breakfast!

“Eat,” I urge. “Before you go to sleep. Be sure to eat and get well.” I lean in and kiss his soft ears, and then softly close the door behind me.

To my horror, it takes moment to register that someone is looming in the dark hallway—waiting for me to appear.

“Good morning, kitten,” a disgusting, familiar voice purrs. Terror sinks into my gut and I jerk up my face while I consider my options. I could drag myself back into Rai’s room and hide in his bed. Verg has been waiting for me. He must have seen me bring in the food. I don’t want to inconvenience Rai—and I watched him take his medication so he won't be able to help me. I knew this was a risk. “It seems someone has been a _very_ bad boy.”

My neck is grabbed before I can escape, and a small yelp escapes my mouth before his palm claps against my lips. Only muffled sounds leak out now—and I don’t want to cause a scene or attract attention from any other guests on this floor, so I submit instantly to the touch.

“Honestly, I don’t trust you to be quiet. I know what you’ve been up to, kitten. And you’re in more trouble than even I could have imagined.” Verg sounds disturbingly excited about the prospect of me being in trouble. “Let’s get you downstairs.”

I’m dragged along behind Verg—even though I’m trying not to resist. My body is frozen in fear. I had no idea that anyone from Halfway would show up here. And shit—I still have that medicine in my pocket! I will be in even more trouble if they find it.

Instead of bringing me to Bardo’s room, or the kitchen, or the dining area, Verg heads down the cellar staircase. I dislike the creepy damp cellar and try not to spend more time there than necessary. Behind the food storage, there’s another door. He pushes it open and throws me inside the dimly lit room, following close behind me.

“Good morning, sleepy little kitten.” _Shit_. It’s Virus. What the hell is he doing here? “You’ve been quite naughty, it seems. We’ve never had a kitten as naughty as you. I wonder how we should handle it?”

“I’m so sorry,” I start, trying my best not to stammer. “I’ve not been feeling quite right—and after I checked on the patient upstairs last night, I fell asleep. He felt sorry for me and let me rest in his room.”

“Is that right?” Virus asks. “I _do_ believe you weren’t feeling well. It’s mating season, after all. It would explain your fever and discomfort, wouldn’t it? Only you should have had your _master_ see to your needs. He paid for your services, after all.” The blond cat tips his head to the side toward Bardo standing next to him, leaning up against the wall. He looks extremely displeased.

“I’m sorry, kitten. I know what you’ve been doing.”

“I haven’t—”

“No use arguing, kitten,” Verg says. “We already _know_. And I believe you’ve been kind enough to bring the evidence to convict you.”

I shrink back in terror, but Virus grabs my shoulders. Verg reaches into my pocket and pulls out the packet of medication. I'm dismayed at how easily he found it! Bardo sighs in exasperation.

“It’s—um, it’s not what it looks like!” I protest. “I j-just made extra for the patient upstairs and f-forgot to leave it with him!”

“Well, this would explain why I’ve been feeling so tired, despite the season,” Bardo says. Heavy disappointment loads his tone. “I was hoping we could avoid this.”

Avoid _what_? I am unable to ask. My stomach turns over and I feel like I might be sick.

“That’s not _all_ the evidence, is it, kitten?” Verg purrs in my ear. How did he get so close? “Let’s see what else you have for us, hmm?”

I have no idea what he means—until his hands fiddle with the tie on my pants. They are loosened and yanked off, leaving me bare from the waist down. I flush with humiliation at being so cruelly exposed.

“No—please—”

I’m harshly bent over at the waist over Virus’s knee and to my utter mortification, Verg not only lets his fingers skate between my cheeks but drops to his knees and presses his nose to my entrance. I squirm—trying to escape the firm grasp—feeling my ears blush and my face get impossibly hot.

“I was right,” rumbles Verg’s baritone from a place it really should not be. “You had your patient take care of your symptoms, didn’t you?”

“I-i-i—” I don’t know what to say and I’m much too flustered at this point to say anything else. “Please...”

My chin is touched gently, and I open my eyes, which I’d squeezed shut in embarrassment. Bardo is looking at me, a gentle look in his eye.

“I thought the warning would be enough,” he purrs sadly, not bothering to hide his disappointment. “I’m afraid there’s no getting out of this now.” Shrugging his shoulders, he drops my chin, then he addresses Virus. “Do what you have to do.”

“Well. We haven’t had to publicly punish any of our boys in such a long time,” Virus says. “Certainly not for something like this. Even he should know better.”

“No!” I burst out, full of desperation. Instead of struggling to escape, I drop to my knees and grab Virus’s legs. “ _Please_! They will kill me! I can’t—”

“You were warned, kitten. You have no one to blame but yourself,” Virus says smoothly. “We still have time to get him there before they start. Verg, would you prepare him, please?”

I have no idea what he means, but ice flows in my veins at this point. I’ve never been so frightened in my life! And I’m afraid anything I do will only make my punishment worse. I relax on the floor, allowing Verg to strip off my shirt, leaving me completely naked. Tears fall from my eyes and I cannot stop them.

“You are lovely when you cry, kitten. But I’d hate for you to believe you have a chance to get out of the punishment you’ve so foolishly earned. Or...” Virus brushes my chin softly and lifts it to meet his gaze. “Or to believe that a public punishment is _all_ you have coming to you. It seems your training did not take. We will have to see what we can do to fix that.”

A sob tears from my throat, but I don’t resist or protest. I can’t stop begging or sobbing. I let my body relax as a leather collar loops around my neck and is yanked harshly, pulling me to stand. Similar leather cuffs are attached to my ankles and wrists, but I don’t resist.

“I’m sorry,” I blubber. “Please—I’m sorry.”

“I know you are, kitten. But not as nearly as sorry as you will be.” Virus pets my ears gently as if he is trying to soothe me.

* * *

I wasn’t aware that it was possible to physically punish a person into submission, beating the humiliation out of him and replacing it with burning pain. I have lost count of how many times the leather flogger has connected with my skin as I hang helplessly from the wooden cross keeping my body in a submissive kneel,my arms stretched out to the side. I’ve never felt so helpless—but the pain blossoming in my back and ass are outweighing the utter humiliation of being exposed so publicly as well as the utterly vulnerable position in which I find myself.

Right now, I focus on breathing—deep breath in, gasping cry out—hiccuping and coughing as the tears and snot flood down my face and chest. I have my eyes shut tight—as if shutting them gives me some sort of protection from the crowd gathered to watch this horrendous exhibition.

I hope to lose consciousness, but the executioner is careful with his blows. They land hard and painful across my back, my shoulders, my ass, the bit of thigh and calf that he can reach, and even my bare soles. I am hoarse from screaming at this point, wishing myself dead or far away from here. I can’t even remember why I am being punished so severely!

Just before the darkness of my eyelids blurs and fades to gray, my body jerks. Something in my chest moves—like vomit forcing its way out of my body—and my skin ripples and my muscles twitch, tugging against the restraints at my wrists. A song spills from my body—a loud, high-pitched wail—calling for help like it has never done before.

It’s startling enough that the person performing the punishment stops. My punishment was saved for last—meaning I had to watch as another slave was whipped and one was branded before I too had to kneel to take my lashes. I was thankful I hadn’t eaten anything, since I had been dry-heaving in anxiety up to that point.

Now, a soft warm light surrounds my body, a ring in my ears. When I open my eyes, I’m astonished to see the thin tendrils of light drifting from my body toward the direction of the inn. Part of me understands that this is a useless, cruel call for help—from Rai. I know he cannot save me from this, and surely he will hear the pain of my cry. But the executioner still stops the punishment at once.

“This—this one—he is a _Sanga_! I cannot punish a magical creature!”

“You are paid to punish the transgressions of slaves that don’t fall in line,” another voice cuts in. “You _will_ finish the job.”

“It’s bad luck to punish a magical creature. I won’t! Plus, he is calling for someone. I’ve never seen one this powerful—not in years—and he is just a child!”

“If you want to feed your family, you will complete the punishment.”

I hear the sound of something dropping to the floor, followed by the firm steps of someone walking away. I believe my song has saved me—but I don’t dare to hope. Also, I’m completely powerless to move.

“I believe that’s enough,” the second voice says. “Who is his owner? Please take him away before he does something to harm someone.”

“He’s totally harmless,” Virus says. “A Sanga’s duty is to protect his Touga—and the child has no Touga.”

I feel miles away from my body—thankfully—and I have no power left once my song fades. My wrists are disconnected and I tumble to the floor.

“Take him,” Virus says. I’m scooped up, thrown over someone’s shoulder—I can only assume it’s Verg from the soft feel of feathers on my bare skin.

I’m carried off the stage and away from the spectators, but I let my eyes close and drift into unconsciousness.

* * *

I wake—barely—to the sound of a voice I want to hear more than anything.

“What have you _done_ to him?! Old man, he’s just a _child_! And _I_ was the one who made him stay! _None_ of this is his doing!”

It’s my silver cat—I know it—as I find myself in the lobby of the inn, naked and numb, lying on my stomach on the couch. Bardo is replying to him, but I don’t care about his words or bother making them out.

Rai should not be up, and it sounds like his voice is coming from the top of the stairs. Before he can take one step toward me, I lift my head—using the last energy I have.

“You’re conscious?” He asks. His face is full of grief and worry, and it breaks my heart. I should never have sung!

“You need to get back to bed,” I say, my voice cracking. My lips are dry and chapped, and my face is tight with dried tears and snot. It hurts my back to lift my face to him. “Please.”

“You’re—”

“ _Please_ ,” I repeat, letting emotion flow into my tone. “I won’t have you opening up that wound or falling down the stairs because of me.”

“Konoe...”

“ _Please_. Just... I will change your bandage and check on you when I can,” I murmur, laying my head back to the couch and closing my eyes.

“We will keep him occupied yet, I’m afraid,” I hear Virus say. “As I told you before, he is _not_ fit for serving clients just yet. I don’t know what you think you were doing to him, but you’ll need to wait for his training to take hold before you will be permitted to touch him privately.”

An angry outburst from the silver cat makes me flatten my ears. Somehow, hearing him angry is more traumatic to me than my physical suffering—but I’m exhausted. I am unable to do anything else, so I let myself ease back into unconsciousness.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Konoe’s training continues.
> 
> This is a dark and dirty (very non-con) update. Please read at your own risk.
> 
> Triggers: non-con drug use, non-con touching and groping, non-con vibrator use, etc. etc. etc.

I wake when a needle pricks my inner elbow. I’m sore and exhausted—my entire body hurts and my back and ass are burning—but that single needle prick shocks me from my sleep. Well, I probably was unconscious, not sleeping, but let’s not get into those details.

When I pry my heavy eyelids open, I make out Virus and Dr. Arbitro standing in front of me. I am in the basement of the inn, as far as I can tell. My body feels heavy and stiff, and I try to wiggle my toes and I can’t. My breath is shallow and my skin feels sweaty and uncomfortable—a lot like it did last night, except that I can’t move. Virus has asked the doctor a question I didn’t understand and the doctor is replying.

“Between Verg’s earlier treatment and this, he should be aroused, aware, and awake, though he won’t be able to move. He won’t be limp and sleeping like he was at his debut. This drug induces a catatonic state. You can pose him and he will stay in position, or you can make him walk. Perfect for training him out of this rebellious behavior. Do you understand me, kitten?”

The doctor narrows his eyes at me, at least as far as I can tell, since his mask covers his eyes. Fear shudders through my body when I understand his words—but he’s right. I cannot move or speak, and I feel aroused as well as disgusting. Verg has done that weird liquid lubricating thing in my ass—or else, some other wetness is dripping and melting inside my body. It feels gross oozing out of me, not to mention I’m completely wigged out that anyone touched me like that while I was unconscious. Of course, I can’t do anything about it.

“Sadly, the clients won’t be able to enjoy his voice when he’s paralyzed like this. But we need to follow through with his discipline and training, and this will certainly be effective.” Virus bends his knees, crouching before me. I am kneeling on the floor, my ass resting on the backs of my thighs which are slimy with lube. “You understand what you did wrong, don’t you, kitten?”

I can’t reply or even nod. I do understand, however. I’m in this much trouble because I not only repeatedly drugged Bardo, but I also allowed the symptoms of heat to overtake me, and I let the patient upstairs take care of my needs. Gods—it was still almost worth the humiliating and excruciating flogging that left me unconscious at the town center square. Now, not knowing what else is in store for the evening, I’m not so sure. I just wish Rai was here.

“This evening is not a punishment. You’ve paid for your crimes with that flogging. Of course, if you disobey your master and take matters into your own hands again, it will be repeated. This evening is all about furthering your training,” Virus continues, his voice gentle and caring. It's disgusting. “In other circumstances, I would not have loaned you out quite so soon after your arrival. However, a bill came due unexpectedly and I had little choice. I thought the crash course at Halfway had served you better, but your behavior here has been a complete disappointment. So we’d like a chance to teach you what your role with us truly is. Similar to your debut, you won’t have any volition. I’m sure you understand that you've lost that privilege. This evening is intended to guide you into your place at Halfway.”

As a whore, Virus must mean. My place as a whore. My gods—I cannot believe I got myself into this situation, to begin with!

“He’s dripping everywhere. I mean, it looks glorious, but the client might not appreciate the mess on the floor,” Arbitro points out.

“Let’s fix it before we bring him upstairs,” suggests Virus. Without further ado, he pushes my shoulders toward the floor and guides my arms out in front of me. He also straightens my knees, leaving me exposed, ass in the air and legs slightly spread. I’m still not fully dressed. At least, I feel a chilly breeze against my thighs where normally I would be covered. I tried to look down at myself, but I don’t even have the power to move my neck or tilt my head. In this position, I can only see pink leather cuffs on my wrists.

My cheeks are separated roughly, and Virus pushes an object into my ass. My insides are a little sore—probably from yesterday with Rai—but it’s nothing compared to my inflamed skin. I can only breathe evenly, not even gasp in surprise or exhale deeply to relax, while under the influence of whatever weird drugs I’ve been given.

“Thanks for treating his skin, doctor. It’s one of his best features and it would be a shame for the punishment to cause scarring.” Virus continues speaking to the doctor as though I’m not in the room.

“Some Sanga have the power to heal with their song,” Arbitro drawls in that weird sing-song voice. “Of course, we can’t trust him enough to allow him to explore that power at this point. Now. Let’s show the kitten how lovely he looks, dressed as this evening's entertainment.”

My body is pulled up to stand. Strangely, my body maintains the pose. I am turned to face my full reflection in the mirror. I’m dressed in strips of pastel pink leather—my collar has been changed for a wide collar that covers my shoulders.

“A brigade collar,” explains the doctor, letting his fingers glide across my skin. “And a harness. Suitable for a kitten giving in to his animal instincts. You will be easily controlled with this.”

The harness attaches to the collar with metal rings. Slim straps cross over my chest and accent my nipples and the tuft of blond fur on my belly. My arms are bare except for leather cuffs at my wrists. My groin is barely covered with some sort of pouch—including a firm leather band wrapped around the hilt of my cock that keeps me stimulated and most likely unable to climax. Even in my current semi-aroused state, it makes the bulge between my legs look bigger. I’m afraid if I get fully aroused my dick will poke up past the low-rise leather underwear barely cradling my balls. The back of the leather underwear is two straps that leave my tail and crack uncovered, snugly hugging the bottom of my ass cheeks and giving my ass an even perkier look. My thighs are bare, but up to my knees is covered in soft leather boots. I’m shocked at how lewd the pink looks against my skin. The color blends perfectly with the flush on my cheeks and the base of my ears.

When I was pulled up to stand, the plug or vibrator Virus shoved into me shifted, and the lubrication around it is sliding out of my hole and in between my thighs, though not in as large of quantities as it was before. The liquid glistens vulgarly on my skin.

I look like a blow-up sex doll and feel about as useful. A violent shock of fear rushes through my system, making my breath pick up when I realize I am about to be displayed publicly in this outfit. Of course, I can’t prevent whatever they have planned. My cheeks and ears flush even pinker in shame—and my ass and back still burn from the flogging. While I have no control over my body, when Virus pulls at the leash attached to my collar, my legs follow obediently, even as he heads up the stairs. It’s as if my body remembers the motions automatically and responds, though I cannot move anything of my own volition.

Wearing this ridiculous and revealing outfit, I’m led into the dining area, in which supper is already being served. Though I can’t turn my head, I don’t miss every pair of eyes falling on me—looking me up and down. I’ve never felt more objectified in my life. If the goal of this lesson is to put me in my place by humiliation, the mission is already accomplished. Several impressed murmurs and whistles follow me, but I can’t even glare at anyone. My face feels composed and neutral, and I am frustrated (and terrified) that I can’t communicate in any way.

Virus leads me to the front of the room, giving the diners a chance to observe my soundly punished ass and thighs. The tables have been rearranged to allow a small space all around me. Virus makes me kneel, showing me off to the diners from the side. Nudging the backs of my knees and gently pushing down on my shoulders, he folds my legs beneath my body, but I end up with my knees slightly wide. This position shifts the plug against my prostate, but I have no way of telling indicating my discomfort. He tilts my chin toward the floor and fusses with my hair.

“You look lovely, kitten,” he assures me. I can’t reply or even look up at him. “I know you’re probably feeling a little nervous, but don’t worry. You are perfectly safe here. In fact, we’ve fixed this evening’s entertainment so you won’t have a chance of disappointing any of your audience. So you won't risk any punishment tonight. Isn't that wonderful?”

The blonde bespectacled cat’s words do not calm me. But my body doesn't tremble or shake, and there is no way for me to reveal how frightened I am. As far as the audience is concerned, I’m here as the submissive whore Halfway is training me to be.

My thoughts are interrupted by another voice—Arbitro’s excessive tone—describing what lovely treat is being provided to the diners, courtesy of Halfway.

“Feel free to look and touch as you like. He is an interactive exhibit.”

Inwardly, I shudder in horror. The diners are allowed to touch me? What kind of hell do they have planned? Before my eyes, Arbitro waves a small, rectangular device. He switches on the button, and the vibrator in my ass starts to hum. It's loud enough to hear even outside my body. He turns the dial up and down, watching my pupils dilate. I feel it shifting inside, as my inner walls struggle to shift it to a more comfortable position—but it’s ineffective. My cock twitches and comes to life, the head pushing up barely out of my waistband.

It’s at this point my eyes burn. Tears leak out, dripping down my face. I am so ashamed—on display like an object, a sex toy—to be fondled and used however the guests see fit. This is the dining room, I try to reason. Surely, no one will try to fuck me here, will they? My insides shiver with revulsion, but I'm paralyzed.

“See how obedient he is tonight?” The doctor continues. “This is the ideal we strive for at Halfway. We have other, equally gorgeous submissives waiting to fill your every desire—subs who are more experienced than this one and much more willing. Please, we invite you for a visit.”

Weirdly, I can move my eyes, though I cannot tip my face in any direction. I scan the room—and land immediately on the cat with short gray hair who has been harassing me since my first day. My stomach roils in discomfort as he stands up from his chair and walks over to me.

I drop my eyes to the floor, but he touches my chin and lifts it until I make eye contact with him. He has a weird smell—it must be from the mating season, I think—or possibly because I am so vulnerable my senses are working overtime.

“Ah. Finally. I’m so thrilled to finally get a chance to see you up close.” The cat leans in, drops my chin, and peers from my chest to my crotch. “Look at that. You’re already so riled up.”

“He’s bound tight enough so he can't release,” Arbitro says. “But feel free to play with the remote for now.”

“What’s this?” The silver cat asks. I can’t see what he is pointing at and another bolt of fear shoots through my chest.

“Ah, yes. Would you like the honor?”

“Please.”

I hear the soft jingle of a metal chain behind me, and then a cold clamp pinches my left nipple. My chin is low enough so I see the metal clamp pinching my poor nipple, making it hard and uncomfortable. There is a second clamp attached to the end of the chain, and the silver-haired cat clamps it to my right nipple. If I could speak or move, I’d yelp and pull away. The sensation is overwhelming, especially when combined with the low hum of the vibrator.

The cat standing in front of me reaches down and touches the tip of my cock. A few drops of white precum glisten at the tip. Then he repeats the motion while simultaneously dialing up the vibrations on the toy inside me.

I want to shift away—overstimulated and embarrassed, but all I can manage is to blush. The heat in my ears rises to the tips, the flush on my cheeks travels down to my chest, and my fur bristles. But I can’t escape this. A few more tears spill down my cheeks, and a deep ache in the pit of my stomach starts to throb.

Unsure of whether the display or the stimulation is worse, I can only hang on to my sanity for so long. As when I was flogged, I allow my consciousness to slip from my body. I don’t move, but being frozen takes me out of myself long enough to be able to remember my existence outside of Halfway. As it was, I feel more like a piece of furniture to be arranged however my handlers prefer. I don’t feel like a person.

As my consciousness leaves my body, the raucous sounds in the dining room fade into the background. I feel floaty and my eyes drift shut. It makes the entire experience more tolerable.

All of this started because I stole a single crust of bread. I cannot make sense of any of it. Would it have been better to allow the jail to remove my claw? At least my torture wouldn’t be so prolonged.

Needing to stay dissociated during the whole meal, I have to change my thoughts. I need to think about something else—something hopeful. Something soft and silver, perhaps, the injured guest upstairs. I worry he hasn’t been eating or getting his medication, though I hope someone has seen to his needs.

Do I regret letting Rai touch me last night? I can’t say that I do. I have a stubborn streak in my heart that won’t let me regret something that felt so tender—filling a hole inside my heart I didn’t even know I had. Even his tender touches, how he asked for permission and my consent—I had no idea sex could feel like that. It was truly magical.

It isn’t long before my mouth starts to salivate—and I don’t have the control to swallow. Instead, a slender line of drool drips onto my thigh from my chin. It’s humiliating enough to shock me back into my body, making me even more aware of my cock straining against the leather underwear. The ring around my hilt aches and throbs. The vibrator continues to relentlessly assault my insides, and my nipples are sensitive.

Additionally, the skin on my whole backside stings. I’m good at withdrawing from the situation and dissociating, but when a drop of drool or a splash of tears hits my legs, I’m shocked back into my horrendous reality.

A few more fresh tears drip down my cheeks, joining with the stream of spit dripping on my legs. The temperature cools almost immediately. I want to be far from here, but my memories bring me right back to my debut at Halfway. It would be much easier to be a "sleeping beauty" again than deal with this.

The good thing about this is that I am obeying. I (at least) appear to be submissive and silent. I can’t gag or vomit when strangers touch my skin, tug the chain between my nipples, or toy with the vibrator’s remote. For some reason, many of the guests caress the stripes on my back, purring softly in my ear about what a shame it is that such a sweet kitten like me has gotten punished so harshly.

If they think it’s a shame, then why are they touching me? Why are they harassing me? Bothering me? Grabbing me? Teasing me and toying with my body? I’m in pain and I’m angry—and I’m so utterly helpless and vulnerable that the only thing I can do is weep.

The room has darkened since my initial arrival. Dusk has fallen outside. I am not sure how long the dinner lasts but eventually, the diners start to clear out. Some are more reluctant—like the guest who has been stalking me. I’m relieved when he heads up to his room. Gen and Bardo clean up the dining room, humming and whistling softly, stopping to pet my ears and straighten my hair or brush my shoulders. I suppose they mean to be comforting. But every last touch sends a ripple of suppressed anger and disgust through my body.

By the time the dining room is clean, I can twitch my tail and wiggle my toes—but I can’t move anything else. My ears have regained their function, so I’m not nearly as surprised when someone approaches me. My tears have dried, and a soft warm towel touches my face. I look up to meet the amber eyes of the tiger.

“Such a harsh punishment for such a sweet kitten,” he purrs. His touch is so gentle and tender, it’s frankly disconcerting. “If only you’d have obeyed me... I’ve trained so many of your kind from other houses and never has anyone drugged me. They would never have dared. So as unpleasant as it was, the punishment certainly fit the crime.”

Fresh tears spring to my eyes and are wiped immediately.

“Don’t worry. The evening is almost over. I’ve asked Gen to finish up in the kitchen so I can have a little private time with you. And you won’t have to move a muscle.” He chuckles softly—it almost sounds like a normal laugh to me. Considering what he’s saying, it’s repulsive. “You won’t be able to move a muscle until the good doctor visits tomorrow with the antidote.”

The vibrator is switched off, but the nipple clamps are left on. My collar is yanked to pull me to my feet. Bardo doesn’t handle me nearly as gently as Virus did. I almost lose my balance. The large tiger sweeps me off my feet bridal style, enjoying the feel of my naked ass against his arms.

Still, I’m almost thankful for what is coming next. It's a disgusting thought, but I’m uncomfortably aroused and completely humiliated by the public display. At least what Bardo has planned will take place in private. And if I can’t resist, he’ll have no reason to punish me. Will he?


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virus brings Konoe back to Halfway after a rough night for an even worse night of training.
> 
> Verg is involved. And it’s been way too long since I spanked a character, so there’s a non-con spanking in this chapter too. (Humiliation as well.)
> 
> And holy shit—this fic has more than 2000 views? What is wrong with you guys? (And why are the worst, darkest, dirtiest fics the most viewed ones, anyway?) ;)

The rest of the night is a blur. Probably (and thankfully) because of the medication, I partly lose consciousness. I still can’t move or speak, and I remain posed however the innkeeper wants me. The cock ring stays in place the entire night, and I’m not permitted to come. I know I’ve been used every which way and in the morning, my body is crusted with dried bodily fluids—the innkeeper’s cum—but thankful for having been outside my body for most of this time. I’m exhausted, on my knees beside the bed, not having slept a wink. My conscious mind still feels disconnected from my body—which is just fine, considering even now I feel the burn in my ass.

I feel nauseated but I’m so powerless I can’t even vomit. I need to be washed but that frightens me as well. I won’t ask for it. I don’t want Bardo to touch me any more than he already has. I’m better off like this—dirty, used, crusted in cum. I remember—now that the moon of light spills through the small window in Bardo’s room—that Virus will be coming to collect me today. I’m stuck as I am, but unable to do anything. I almost think I will be better off in Virus’s care than here. Although, what will happen to Rai? The guilt I feel about letting him touch me is overwhelming.

After sunrise, Bardo whistles in the kitchen as he goes about the morning chores with a spring in his step—whereas my cock is aching and throbbing unpleasantly, my ass has been fucked raw, my skin is oversensitive, and hell, even my nipples hurt. I think he kept those clamps on much too long. The skin is red and irritated.

Tears spill down my face but I can’t even sob. I just wait, kneeling on the floor next to the bed, unable to rest or sleep, but utterly used. More than anything, I want _comfort_. I know there is none to be had. However, it’s so frustrating to know that the silver cat is on the floor above me, able and probably eager to offer me the comfort I want so much and being stuck here. I might only have to call out and he’d come to me. But I can’t do that. I won’t do that.

After the morning meal is served (without my help), I hear footsteps approaching the door.

“My, my. He certainly looks delicious all debauched like this,” Virus purrs softly. “I’ll take him home for the day—we have further training planned for tonight. Let your customers know we have something special in mind. I will return him to you tomorrow, and he will be much easier to handle. You may keep him an extra two days to make up for his disobedience.”

Virus touches my chin and urges me to raise my face.

“Don’t you look perfectly desperate, kitten? I hope this form of training is helping you understand your role a little better.” He touches my erection briefly, and I wince in pain, unable to move or do anything else.

I can’t reply, but I don’t want to look at those cold blue eyes, either. However, I know dropping them will indicate submission and so I maintain his gaze. All he does is chuckle in response.

“I _see_. So that’s how it is. Let’s get you back home.”

He encourages me to stand by pulling on my arm. My knees creak—I’ve been on the hard floor for so long they feel bruised. And to my horror, he leads me to the lobby—still dressed in this ridiculous pink leather contraption and covered in bodily fluids not my own. And he plans to lead me across town like this? _Shit_.

Virus makes a show of it, too—calling attention to me as he leads me by the collar. I try to keep my eyes lowered to the ground in front of me, but I keep getting distracted by his loud advertising and the curious and lustful gazes I am getting.

“Come see his training tonight—Halfway House at 7 PM. You’re in for a real treat.”

My stomach roils, but I have no choice but to follow him. My mind flashes back to what caused all this excessive "training"—and it’s not just the stolen bread, but also the fact that I approached the silver cat on my own and that I drugged the man who paid for my services. My heart aches when I think of Rai. He felt so kind and tender, and I realize I have a slim chance of ever seeing him again. I just hope his wounds heal, even without my help.

Back at the halfway house, I’m led upstairs. Dismayed beyond my wildest dreams, I’m devastated to see Arbitro waiting for me in the bathing chamber.

“Well, well. If it isn’t our rebellious kitten! You look rather well-used. It suits you. Have you learned your lesson? Your pleasure isn’t for sharing unless your master specifically requests it. Child, you’ll get along _much_ better here if you’d only realize you need to please your master before he will please you.”

I refuse to meet his gaze, but I’m manhandled roughly. I can’t figure out why. I’m still paralyzed, unable to protest or resist because of that drug. Why would the good doctor deem it necessary to treat me so roughly? It hurts my feelings—to my surprise. It wouldn’t if I’d never known a tender touch. Despite my efforts, tears spill down my cheeks. It doesn’t calm the doctor in the least.

“My gods, you are gorgeous when you weep. I think we ought to keep you like this! However, we have other plans for you tonight. I think when you see what they are, you will shape up. Let’s get you clean. I think I’ll keep you compliant like this. There’s something in your eyes that reeks of rebellion.”

I am forced through a series of invasive cleansing routines—including an enema and a rough scrub-down in the bath and shower. My so-called clothes are stripped from me, thankfully, but to my dismay, even after the cock ring is removed, I can't take care of my own needs. I can’t whine or protest, either, but additional tears spill down my face when arousal floods me again.

I’m led back to the bedroom upstairs—thankful that I’m not being chained up in the basement—where the towel is taken from me and I pushed onto the bed.

“You won’t be able to touch yourself, after all. We should take care of your health, kitten.” My cock is stroked gently back to arousal and I can't even complain. A small sigh escapes my lips, which is even more humiliating than being bound for so many hours. It can’t be healthy. None of this can be healthy. Worse, the doctor leaves me erect and uncomfortable.

I’m locked in the bedroom alone on the bed, lying on my side and unable to move, completely naked but allowed a sheet. I’m told to sleep since I have a big night ahead of me.

I do manage to sleep. I’m utterly exhausted from last night and all day yesterday. There’s nothing else for me to do, except keep my ears peeled for strange sounds—anything to give me a clue as to what is going to happen to me tonight. I spend the time in bed missing the silver cat—his scent, the sight of him, how nice his fur and his skin felt. I worry he isn’t getting proper care, but Virus said he’d bring me back tomorrow. So I just have to get through tonight. I have to behave myself—obey the orders I’m given, regardless of how humiliating they are. Otherwise, I won’t be allowed to leave. I might never see the silver cat again.

I haven’t been fed today at all. I only had water yesterday. I was starting to feel dehydrated and uncomfortable before going to sleep, and I wake feeling groggy and fuzzy, still unable to move on my own. My joints are so stiff—I hardly know what to do. And then I see the reason I’m awake.

It’s Verg, standing in my room, hovering over my bed with his arms crossed. He’s tall, looming over me, dressed in feathers, fur, and leather.

“You’ve been quite a naughty little boy, haven’t you?” He purrs softly, caressing my ears and sending a slimy shiver down my body. “I’m here to help you prepare for tonight.”

If I could flinch away, I would. I would crawl underneath the bed to get away from Verg. He terrifies me. But I have no choice but to remain where I am on the bed, naked beneath the sheet, watching what Verg has planned for me.

I expect it before it happens. He sends shock after shock through my body. I’m already aroused—but this makes it so much worse. He grabs my tail and shocks me. He touches between my legs and shocks me. He touches my thighs and shocks me. All I can do is moan—or try to—and that’s all I manage.

“Hmm,” the demon purrs softly, stroking my ears with a haunting tenderness. “I can understand that the good doctor likes you compliant. I, however, miss your spark. Perhaps I can relieve you of this burden for a little while.”

He reaches out his fingers and a soft, yellow glow forms at the tip. He presses his index and middle fingers to my forehead, letting the warmth and light spill against my skin. Suddenly, I can breathe and move—and I take a loud, gasping breath as though I have had a weight lifted from my body. My voice loosens in my chest as well, and I moan softly.

“Isn’t that better, kitten? You do have such a captivating voice. I don’t know how the old innkeeper managed to keep himself entertained with you perfectly silent.”

“Fuck you,” I murmur, pulling away from the larger body the moment I regain control of myself.

Verg laughs—a startling loud guffaw that makes my fur bristle.

“Oh, look! You’re so cute and fluffy when you’re nervous.” Verg takes a seat on my bed, grabbing my leg over the blanket and yanking me down to my back close to him. “This is much more my style. What’s the point if you can’t fight me off? Neither of us is going to enjoy that.”

“What the fuck do you want from me?” I mean the question to sound bitter and enraged, but honestly, I’m just tired. I don’t know what anyone wants—nor what is happening this evening—or what is expected. I just want to be left alone.

“Would you rather be back under the magic spell of the doctor’s? I just figured you’d want a change and to be able to express your true feelings.”

“No. Please.” I’m too quick to answer. Even as exhausted as I am, I cannot stand the idea of not being able to move for another day. It’s the same as being trapped in my body. “Don’t.”

“Good boy,” the devil murmurs, running his hand up my leg to my thigh. I’m very naked underneath the blanket, and Verg’s eyebrows lift slightly when I move away. “Yeah, you’re not going anywhere, kitten. I get the doctor’s fascination with leaving you unable to move. But I have to say, I like your energy.”

I twist underneath the blanket to turn onto my stomach on the bed, scrabbling my hardest to slip out from Verg’s touch. I know if I leave the bed, I’ll leave any covering behind, but at this point, I don’t care. I don’t want to be touched or handled or shocked.

Verg lets me escape the covers but grabs my tail the moment I escape the bed. He pulls me back onto his lap, and I feel his stiff erection press up against my ass. Even the thought of him fucking me makes my insides burn with pain.

“Kitten, you _wound_ me. I am here to _help_ you, after all. I know as well as you that you haven’t been allowed release for some time. The point...” He sighs softly. “The point is to teach you that you no longer have control over your body. Sure, right now, you think you can escape. But really, you’ll find if you just submit to what is being done to you, your patrons will _want_ to see you get off, too.”

“I don’t want to get off,” I growl. “I certainly don’t want _you_ to get me off.”

“Is that so?” The low voice purrs in my ear, and his too-wet tongue licks the tip, sending a repulsive shiver down my spine. But I hardly have time to notice that when his fingers brush over my cock. “It feels like you aren’t being entirely truthful, kitten. I can smell the arousal—your rut—and it’s still not quite passed. Last night must have been torture for you.”

“Get off me!” I start to struggle for real, and Verg quickly loses patience. He slams me down against the mattress, taking my breath away.

“Stop this, now, or I will make you. You are here to learn a lesson. It will work much better if you comply.”

The threat sends a sliver of fear through my chest, and I relax against the bed, aware of my nudity and being so openly exposed. My tail wraps around my hips, trying to cover what I can of myself.

“Better. Now, before you start to panic and freak out, maybe you should discover what it is I want from you. Because I am here to help you. You’ll feel so much better when you’re done.”

“What do you want?” I ask, exhausted and sick of this already.

“That’s not a very polite way to address your savior,” Verg says, brushing the back of his fingers against my cheek. I flinch from the touch but manage to meet his gaze.

“What do you want, _sir_?” I ask, snarling the polite form of address.

“That’s better, I suppose, even with the snark. This, my dear kitten, is going to be an intense training session for you. I want to see whether you learn faster with positive reinforcement or negative punishment.”

That sounds like a terrible idea. I tense all my muscles and try to escape his reach again. Verg lets me get up from the bed, watching me stalk around the room. Of course, the door is locked. The windows are barred. I'm not going anywhere.

“You look quite... appetizing.”

 _Gross_ , I think.

“I’m starving and I’m thirsty,” I say. “I haven’t had anything to eat since yesterday morning.”

“Well. If you perform well enough, I will see that you get something light to eat. I think you’ll want to keep it light, based on the activities planned for you this evening. But first, let’s see how you learn best.”

I jerk my gaze back to him, keeping my tail hovering in place. Verg makes himself comfortable on the bed and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Touch yourself.”

A bright red flush creeps up from my chest and neck into my ears. I must not have understood. At least, I hope I misunderstood.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I want to watch you touch yourself. _Pleasure_ yourself. Make yourself _come_. I will learn what you enjoy by watching you.”

“No.”

“Sorry?” Verg sits up, eyebrows rising even higher.

“I’m not going to do that.”

“All right. Then we will continue with negative punishment.” He lunges out at me, grabs my tail, and sends a shock through the tip. The electric feeling shoots up my tail and into my spine, pulling a loud groan from my lips—and my knees start to shake when the spark melts into sexual arousal. “Some, of course, would consider this positive reinforcement, I suppose. But you’re a little different. You fight your nature so much. Now _touch_ yourself.”

“No!” I pant, trying to keep standing on my feet.

Another shock is applied to the front of my thighs—which is much too close to my cock for comfort. It’s a burning heat that shoots through my hips and legs, pooling heavily in my groin, making all my muscles tense with each shock before melting into pleasure.

“Again?” Verg asks, pulling himself up to stand in front of me.

“Fuck you!”

I scream as he shocks me again, this time at the base of my tail. It makes my insides feel like they are on fire—first in pain, then in utter, indulgent arousal. It’s so frustrating and annoying I can’t _stand_ it. Tears brim in my eyes and threaten to spill and that makes me even madder.

“Kitten, you do realize you’re making this much worse than it has to be?” Verg murmurs, pulling me up against his body in a hug. It’s a weird, tender thing to do. Worse, his fingers tickle beneath my chin and jerk it up slightly to make me meet his gaze. “Listen to what I’m asking you to do. I’m telling you I want to see you pleasure yourself. I want to see you make yourself come. I want to learn what you like. I’m offering you _relief_ and permission to enjoy your own body.”

“Fuck... you...” I mutter through clenched teeth, bracing myself for another shock. It doesn’t come. Verg has another idea.

“We could try another method? I thought you’d be too sore and too desperate not to comply, but I’m always willing to make the extra effort for my favorites.”

Verg backs up against the bed, taking me with him. I can hardly move or walk—and my dick and balls are throbbing painfully, reminding me again how harshly my body was toyed with and tortured over the last day and night. I don’t think to fight Verg at this point—not even when he lays me across his seated body, facedown, with my torso resting comfortably on the bed and my legs dangling off his lap. Warm gloved hands caress my ass (which is still bruised and welted from the public flogging yesterday) and the base of my tail, making me arch into the touch in embarrassment and arousal.

“Please...”

“I will, kitten. Now, keep in mind you have the power to stop this. I offered you a positive reward—food and water—in exchange for your obedience. I think your body needs nourishment. But that wasn’t enough of a motivator to do something else your body desperately craves. And so, this is what happens to bad kittens who don’t do as they are told and take advantage of kindness when it’s offered.”

I should have realized what was coming before I feel the smack against my ass. He cups his hand so it makes a loud, painful slap—and he spanks me again and again, tracing up the curve of my ass to just beneath my tail. My injured skin burns unevenly, heating up even after the first slap. It’s incredibly painful and even more humiliating.

“You’re so gorgeously pink, still. Sore, I’d guess?” The devil whispers—and I hear his voice echo in my chest, despite the yelps now escaping my mouth. His fingers sometimes ghost over the puckered skin just below my tail before slapping me—and he spares no part of my backside, paying careful attention to my thighs.

“Please—please—stop!”

I am crying now—with real tears of both frustration and pain—and yes, begging for the spanking to stop. It isn’t _only_ that it hurts me physically. Something else is happening each time my naked body is pressed against Verg’s lap, every time his fingers touch me. It’s impossibly arousing, and I’d be so humiliated to come from what he is doing. But I probably could—and I am getting close, based on my loud cries.

“You know what I have asked you to do. If you will comply, I will stop.”

“Okay, okay! I will! I will! Just please!”

Verg slows down and then stops, letting me catch my breath and not allowing me to hump his leg. His pants are furry and soft, and they feel wickedly good against my bare skin. My face is hot and my cheeks are wet with tears, but Verg just waits patiently for a moment before giving me a push—right on my sore ass, of course—to the mattress.

“Turn over,” Verg says.

I obey, unable to look at him, but I lean back against the pillows at the headboard. Slowly, slowly I move my right hand toward my erection, shame filling every part of me along with extreme nausea.

“Now see, that’s useless—shame is useless for you now. If you let it bother you this much, there’s no telling how your clients will use that emotion against you. Now. This is enough delay. Touch yourself and show me what you like.”

A soft, irritated (and yet aroused) growl spills from my lips the moment I brush my fingers of the tip of my cock. It’s still so sore—as though the leather strap is squeezing the hilt—but even the ghost of fingers over my slit is enough to send a visible shiver up my spine. I suppress my voice and squeeze my eyes closed.

A gentle touch on my chin startles me again.

“ _Look_ at me.”

“What?”

I open my eyes wide, unable to comprehend Verg’s intentions, but the way he is leering at me makes understanding flood my frazzled brain.

“Still, so impolite to your customers, kitten. You heard me. I want you to look at me when you touch yourself.”

“Please—I can’t—”

“Oh, don’t worry. Let me help. I will spank you until you _can_ ,” Verg interrupts, grabbing my leg to pull me back over his lap.

“Wait!” I squeak. “Please wait!”

He just grins up at me, expectantly, still holding onto my lower leg. I take a few deep breaths before I manage to open my eyes. And then, I open my eyes and keep them on that silver-haired demon as if it’s the last thing I will ever do. I don’t _want_ to look at him—I don’t want him watching me—but I’ll be damned if I let him _win_ this.

So instead, while watching him, I stroke myself. I maybe start gently—I am tender as hell, after all, and even my nipples are still sore. But I don’t usually give myself much tenderness. I want to get this done as fast as possible. I smear precum over the slit of my dick to smooth out my touch, wanting more than anything to get this _finished_. I know I’ll feel better once I come, too—it’s just been too long and too intense and my balls are aching with need.

I ignore them—and the rest of my body—and grit my teeth, jerking myself off as roughly and as quickly as I can stand.

“Keep your eyes open,” Verg reminds me. I’m getting close already and I let my lids drift closed. “Better. Look at you, kitten.” His fangs sparkle in the low light of the room.

Once I’m at the point of no return, I gasp slightly and bite my lip, intending to still the sounds of pleasure spilling from my mouth. I feel an immense rush of relief the moment of climax—and a flash of silver (long silver hair, plush fur, gorgeous lashes framing that perfect pale blue eye) flits across my memories. However, even after the much-needed release, my balls still ache and my gut is sore. It’s a disappointing climax.

“You _miss_ him, don’t you?” Verg asks, moving his fingers across my lower lip in utter tenderness. “I’ve heard cats are compatible in season. I suspected you might be quite compatible with that silver cat. You probably will not have an experience like that again as long as you live—unless he seeks you out here.”

“What?” I murmur, still gasping for breath, slumped against the pillows on the bed as my cum drips down my belly.

“The silver cat. You even called out to him while you were being punished. He _must_ have heard you. You’re a magical creature, kitten. Perhaps you ought to try calling him again—see if he will hear you and come for you or if you were just a meaningless one-night-stand to him.”

Pain stabs my chest at his cruel words. Combined with the tender touch, Verg does exactly what he means to do. He crushes my heart in the palm of his hand. He watches with something like pleasure and desire as fresh tears spill down my face.

“Your first love—perhaps your Touga and soulmate—discovered you in the first week of training to be one of Halfway’s distinguished courtesans. You _poor_ little kitten.” He chuckles softly, bringing my mouth to his for a kiss. I am so crushed and hurt and exhausted that I don’t resist. I let him kiss me—I even kiss him back, just a little—especially when his tongue starts to lick at the tears on my cheeks.

I _hate_ this place. I hate this _life_. I hate this _devil_. I want to get out of here. And now—after that experience and those words—I know where I want to go, where I want to be. I need to be by Rai’s side. I will get there _any_ way I have to.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Verg helps Konoe “prepare” for the evening’s festivities.
> 
> Non-con touching, non-con sounding, non-con cock cage use, non-con spanking, degradation, humiliation, medical stuff. Lots of triggers for this chapter.

After being served a light dinner of soup and bread as promised, I’m left alone once again—but only for a few moments. Verg enters my room while I’m sleeping and shakes me awake.

“Wake up, princess. It’s time to get ready for your second debut.”

Debut? _No_ , I think. I already had one of those and it was one of the worst nights of my life. I want to stay right where I am and sleep.

“Get up. We need to get you prepared.” Verg grins at me. The look of eagerness on his face makes me realize disobeying would be a mistake.

I obey, standing up from the bed and realizing I’m naked. I look around for a robe and find nothing. Verg laughs.

“Oh, we’re going to bathe you. Don’t worry, you won’t be naked tonight. But this will be an _excellent_ training experience for you.” He leans down to whisper in my ear. I flinch, but I can’t move when he grabs my shoulder. “And lucky you. I’ve convinced Virus to let you attend drug-free tonight. No chemical restraints, no sleeping beauty syndrome. I’m giving you the chance to show us you have what it takes to survive and thrive here.”

I don’t _want_ that chance, I think, and I turn my face away from him.

“You do realize that we demons can read your emotions, yeah? And thoughts laced with emotions?” Verg asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “You _do_ want this chance. You need something to live for. Would you rather spend the rest of your days chained up in the basement or living in luxury like Aoba?”

He has a point, I suppose. But I don’t want to do _either_ of those things.

“I’m sorry, sir,” I say instead.

Verg looks down at me, his eyes narrowed.

“Good. That’s better. Now come along.” He slaps my ass in a less-than-friendly manner to move me toward the door.

As ashamed as I am to prance around the hallways naked, I’m relieved to find the bathing chamber empty. I’m pushed under the shower, where Verg helps scrub me down when he doesn’t think I’m doing a good enough job. Once I’m finished, he drags me over to the metal table and pushes me up onto it, posing me on my stomach.

“Relax, kitten. This is going to be the typical treatment for you for a while. It’s uncomfortable when you fight it.”

For the second time today, I’m given an enema. My asshole is already raw and sore, and having a long rubber hose shoved up inside me and being filled with saline feels horrible. I try my best to hold back tears and only manage to withhold my sobs. Tears of utter humiliation sneak down my defenses and leak down my cheeks.

“Part of what makes this so interesting is your response, you know,” Verg says, rubbing the back of my thigh and gently caressing my ass as I struggle to keep the liquid inside me. “If you were compliant and gentle, rather than tearful and angry, I don’t think it would be quite so much fun."

There’s nothing pleasant about this, I think.

At least when the enema is finished and my insides are flushed clean, I’m permitted to soak in the bath. Verg takes his time to tidy up my claws—though how dirty I could get since this morning's bath is baffling. He also trims the fur below my navel and around my genitals, and I try my best not to react, fearing the sharp scissors might stab me. All the while, he chats about the plans for this evening.

“This is a night class of sorts,” he explains. “You won’t be the main focus of the event, but you _will_ learn how to service clients in any way they like. We have our best customers attending this evening to watch a performance. Aoba will be dancing tonight. He tends to bring out the best in our customers, so we offer receptacles for release for their convenience. You will be one of those receptacles.”

The word sounds suspicious to me, I think, but I don’t say anything.

“I’d recommend being on your best behavior. I will be monitoring your performance. If you decline to assist any of our clients with any request, you will be made an example of, punished publicly, and then forced to comply with the request.” Verg spends extra time combing through my hair with his claws. It feels disgusting. “So I’d recommend you just do what is asked without complaint. If you weep a little, that’s fine. Most of our customers like that. And they will understand you’re inexperienced and shy. So cry if you must. But loud sobbing and wailing are inappropriate. And you don’t want to interrupt the show.”

I wonder what he means, but I don’t have to ask.

“I will interrupt Aoba’s performance if you disobey or resist, drag your ass up to the stage, and punish you myself until you agree to submit to whatever is asked of you.”

I swallow the large knot in my throat, frightened out of my wits. This is different than what I’ve been asked to do so far. I don’t have any confidence that I’d be able to pull it off. Being chemically restrained or completely drugged is one thing. I can't help myself or do anything then. But this... this is asking me to participate in my own defilement.

“You will be fine,” Verg soothes gently. “You respond well to physical reinforcement. I’m happy to spank you till you comply—just like I did earlier today. And look—you did great. You did just as I asked, eventually. Perhaps we should warm you up a little first, just to make sure you remember what sort of pain is involved in your punishment.”

A horrified shudder courses through my body and my stomach turns over. I’m wishing I hadn’t eaten at all now. But Verg ignores my discomfort and finishes getting me primped in the bath.

“There we go. Now, let’s get you dried off and dressed.” Verg looks down at my expression of surprise. “Oh, yes. We have an outfit for you tonight.”

There’s a small pile of clothes waiting for me. The only thing I recognize is a tall pair of over-the-knee black boots. The other items don't look like clothes to me. Verg helps me dress.

The shorts are the most ridiculous part of the outfit. They feel like leather but are probably synthetic. They ride low on my waist but cover nothing. Instead of a zipper fly, they fasten at the waist with a single button. The fly is completely open—and Verg pulls my soft dick and balls through the opening before fastening them around my waist. Worse still, the back is open. I mean, not just for an opening for my tail, but a heart-shaped cut-out of the semi-stretchy fabric, leaving my cheeks completely bare. It also shows off the small brand, marking me as Halfway House property.

“It’s easy to punish you—and for you to do your job—when everything is already exposed and available.”

This is so humiliating. I’m given a pair of suspenders, more aesthetically pleasing than functional. My shorts are tight enough that they won’t slide off my hips. I also have a black bow tie attached to a leather collar, tightened around my neck. A pair of soft black gloves reach past my elbows. Combined with the boots, I feel like a complete slut.

“Gorgeous, kitten,” Verg says, admiring his handwork. “Now, the finishing touch.”

He pulls a small brass contraption out of one of the cubbies.

“I don’t believe you’ve been subjected to this before,” Verg says. “Climb up on the table for me.”

I don’t want to, looking at what appears to be a torture device in his hands, but when I hesitate, he doesn’t pause even a second before slapping my ass. I yelp and obey right away, afraid of more punishment.

“Gods, your cheeks bounce in such a sweet way,” Verg says. He squirts some lubricant into his palm and starts to lube up part of that contraption. The more I look at it, the more it looks like a cage—sized for my dick. It can’t be what I think it is, though. Worse, there’s a narrow brass tube that connects to the tip of the cage. “Relax, kitten. I’m sure no one has done this to you yet. You will get used to it after a bit. You may even learn to enjoy it.”

I jerk a little when he shoves a bit of lube directly into my slit.

“What are you—?”

“You need to sit still or you will be injured. And trust me, you don’t want to be injured. Lie back and relax.”

Feeling sick to my stomach, I do as he asks, letting him position my legs on the table, folding them at the knee. Without further ado, Verg works the tip of the brass tube into my slit, and I cringe with the painful sensation, scooting away from him on the table. My thigh is slapped hard and Verg makes a noise of displeasure.

“I told you to stay still! You’ve earned this the hard way.”

“Please—no,” I beg, but my back is pressed against the table and a thick leather strap holds me down. Verg tightens it—hard enough, it feels, to crack a rib, so I relax as much as possible. A second strap comes across my hips, holding my lower body down as well.

Then, the demon mercilessly works the tube into my dick. I’m not erect or aroused—it hurts too much—and I cry out again and again for mercy. He works slowly but steadily, concentrating on the task—and it stings and burns especially at the tip of my dick as the metal is slowly fed inside me. It takes much longer than I expect, and I end up closing my eyes and struggling not to move my legs. I don’t want to get injured. Finally, it’s all the way inserted. My cock feels inflamed and heavy, though I’m not entirely erect. The unbending nature of the metal inside me is what is making me hard.

“Now,” Verg says, as he pulls the cage over my cock, threading my balls through two separate brass loops, “you will look all pretty and pristine—delicious for the clients—but you won’t be able to come while wearing this cage. Many of our clients love sounding and cock cages, and this is the perfect combination. This gives them just a taste of what it might be like to spend some private time with you. It looks perfect.”

Ugh—the thought of having to spend time with anyone who wants to shove a rod into my cock disgusts and terrifies me! And now, I know I won’t be able to come at all.

“Don’t look so sad. It’s not like you haven’t _earned_ this. And at least I let you come before. You should be _thankful_.”

Verg’s words don’t help me. I'm still utterly ashamed of exposing myself to him earlier. I’m not feeling the least bit grateful.

The straps release me and my legs are shaking. I’m so uncomfortable—as if a huge weight is resting on my dick and I cannot ignore it. Verg pulls me up to stand, and I’m still uncomfortable. He pushes me in front of a mirror to fix my hair, and I’m stunned by my reflection. I look like a whore. The clothes do nothing to cover me, instead making me feel even more naked than I would be if I weren’t wearing anything. The brass cage in particular draws the eye to my semi-erect cock. My expression is exhausted, overwhelmed, and desperate.

“You look _perfect_ , kitten,” Verg murmurs into my ear, meeting my gaze in the reflection. “Just one last thing.”

He drags me back to the table, pushing me up against it, facing it. He caresses my bare ass with his fingertips as he does so—it feels incredibly intrusive. It's even more intrusive when he trails a finger down my spine, circling the base of my tail, and ghosting over my exposed hole.

“Please— _don’t_ ,” I whisper, both my hands braced hard against the table.

“Bend over a little,” Verg whispers, pushing my back down against the cold metal. “We need to get this out of the way. But I need you to understand what punishment you’re risking tonight—hopefully, to discourage any disobedience.”

One hand flattens against my ass, while the other continues to tease the base of my tail. I try not to react, but my ass clenches every time his fingers get close enough to touch that puckered skin. Abruptly, his palm leaves my ass, pulling back and smacking me hard—several times in rapid succession.

I can’t help myself—quiet yelps escape my mouth with every blow, and I get louder and louder, even as I try to relax into the punishment. I can only think about how humiliated I was when I was flogged in the public square. If I disobey tonight, it will hurt less than a leather flogger, but it will be even more humiliating if I’m up close and personal with clients. Or prospective clients. Gods, how did I even _get_ here?! Is this all because I stole a piece of bread?! Fuck!

Before long, tears have spilled down my cheeks and I’m sobbing with each spank. Verg seems to enjoy using his hand—but I sure as hell don’t appreciate it. He doesn’t soften it at all when it connects with my sore skin, and it feels like a paddle, to some degree—at least, what I’d guess a paddle would feel like.

In no time at all, I’m pleading and begging for mercy, trying my best to keep still and take what I have coming to me, but I don't believe I've earned this at all. I want nothing more than to get away from here, get away from this devil, get away from this life. And as he’s punishing me, I feel something flutter in my chest. It feels desperate—as if it’s trying to save its own life by escaping the confines of my body. It feels a lot like that strange song that keeps coming out. But I suppress it as best I can.

The devil starts to slow the volleys once my loud, wailing sobs fill the room. He slows down, giving me four final spanks—hard ones—on both cheeks and my sit spot on both sides. He rests his hot palm on my burning skin, rubbing it almost gently.

“There you go,” he purrs. “You did very well. I expect that’s how you will behave if punishment is deemed necessary this evening.” He rubs my tail and gives it a little tug. “This sort of thing may be requested of you tonight. I expect you to obey—to _let_ your patrons spank you if that’s what they want. Or else I will use an implement to beat you into submission and _then_ allow them to handle you however they like. You'll be bruised and sore if we have to punish you first.”

I nod my head, but that isn’t good enough. I’m smacked again—hard—right below my tail. It makes me straighten my legs and squeeze my thighs together in shock and pain.

“Verbal answer, kitten. We have clients who will enjoy that special voice of yours.”

“Yes, sir,” I reply miserably, my voice echoing strangely off the metal table.

“Good. Let’s go.”

To my dismay, he attaches a chain leash to the leather collar on my neck and pulls me along. I truly feel degraded—like a pet or even an inanimate object. That strange buzzing in my chest seethes with rage at being treated like this. But my rational mind knows better than to protest or do anything other than willingly comply.

And so, I follow Verg downstairs to a receiving room I haven’t been in before.


End file.
